


Dive in the Ocean, Touch the Sky

by Darktragicangel



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Conflict, Demons, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Forced Marriage, Homosexuality, Penis In Vagina Sex, Personal Growth, Romance, Sisterhood, Social Anxiety, Swearing, Transgender, Vampires, War, couple fights, traumatic past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-23 10:40:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 93,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23410231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darktragicangel/pseuds/Darktragicangel
Summary: The waves of betrayal and heartbreak rolled in a loud deafening thunder inside his head. His hands shook as the overwhelming desperate reality sunk in. His eyes stared in sheer horror at the ring around his finger. The small weightless object that had him trapped to his captors.“You made me a slave.”Story follows the events right from the ending of S03
Relationships: Hector/Lenore (Castlevania)
Comments: 758
Kudos: 359





	1. Slave Ring

**Author's Note:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> Writer: Darktragicangel  
> Beta: Shadowking514
> 
> This story is a response to the requests from readers following my Hector/Carmilla story «Somewhere Between» and also my own need to write about this new Hector/Lenore situation.
> 
> I've read and heard lots of theories on you-tube, reviews, and forums (and my readers from Somewhere Between). They are all interesting in their own way. I've watched the Castlevania parts with Lenore and Hector's interaction over and over again. It's incredible the things you start noticing that you didn't see for the first time. I've been trying to imagine some of the theorized scenarios and I guess, this story will be more than what I think will happen in S04; it will be what I wish will happen. But, don't be mistaken, I do think my interpretation is plausible.
> 
> I meant it to be a one-shot thing, more with Hector's reflections about what happened to him, but the story simply started developing in my mind until I had a plot with a beginning, middle, and end; long enough to reach 15 or more chapters. 
> 
> I will try to post on a regular basis, but it all depends on how inspired I am. Also, I'll be writing 2 stories now, and I take quite some time making one chapter alone (I'm a perfectionist when it's about writing).
> 
> Also, I feel the need to get something off my chest. In my other story "Somewhere Between", people often point out spelling and grammar mistakes. English is not my native tongue, therefore (I'm Portuguese). But no worries, ShadowKing514 will Beta both stories from now on.  
> What bother's me is when readers only focus on the mistakes and won't even tell what their opinion about the story is. That kind of hurts. I enjoy knowing what the readers think and interact with them. Mainly, reading the comments motivates me a lot to continue writting.  
> 
> 
> So, enjoy the first chapter

CHAPTER 1: SLAVE RING

“You tricked me and made me your slave.”

Hector’s voice was rasped. An underlayer of revolt and hurt. He braced himself, his body shrinking, translating how small and defenseless he felt. Lenore turned to look at him, her face denouncing only the tiniest hint of confusion.

“I did no such thing.” Was her simple answer. But Hector was too overpowered by tall black waves of pain to even hear her properly. 

_Slave ring._

_The real people are talking._

The waves of betrayal and heartbreak rolled in a loud deafening thunder inside his head. His hands shook as the overwhelming desperate reality sunk in. His eyes stared in sheer horror at the ring around his finger. The small weightless object that had him trapped to his captors.

“You made me a slave.” Hector’s voice was cracked. His entire being was being torn in two. Despair had become an empty notion, for it didn’t even come near the dread he was experiencing. His hands traveled to his head and grasped his hair, while his body shrunk even further, his legs giving way to the lead weight until his knees touched the floor. “My life is over.”

A thousand thoughts run in his head at the same time, like a mighty tidal wave breaking every structure in its path. Images of Lenore’s pretty face, her soft eyes, her sweet looks; a gentle smile corrupted by the pain of fire burning in his veins, the vicious magic invading his bloodstreams, his skin melting under the unbearable white-hot pain. Betrayal. 

_Oh my God, you adopted him._

_The sister vampire had her own scheme all along._

The pain, the lies, it was all too much.

“Your life is saved, Hector.” The red-haired vampire said in a voice that was incredibly sweet and despising at the same time.

More lies more illusions. Concealed under a warm kind compassionate gesture of small hands resting on his broad shoulders. His insides turned, the taste of bile burned his throat, his heart cracked a little more. “And I gave you what you really always needed.”

The touch of her warm hands traveled his too thin shirt and froze his skin. If less than an hour ago he had felt thrilled to feel her touch, her body, her skin against his; now it made him feel sick and want to recoil inside himself, wanting to shrink to the tightest dark corner of his existence and die. Just die. But he wouldn’t die and instead, a cool hand rested its soft fingers under his chin, lifting it enough so he could look at her. “I made you into my pet.”

The world was a blur. Nothing made sense anymore. Truths became lies. Dreams became nightmares. Trust became betrayal. All that was good, warm, and sweet rotted away in putrefying corruption. Lies and more lies. 

Hector looked up at Lenore. His vision was foggy. Shapes and colors danced before his eyes. Yellow flames of red fire. Lenore’s face was a mix of a child's innocence and depraved falsity. Her smooth and warm voice reached his ears in a screeching noise.

_I made you into my pet_

Something, deep down in his core, shattered. It hurt and its pain proved to be way more horrible than any violent kick to his ribs. Why did he keep falling for lies? Why was he this trusting? Why, after all the wrongs he went through during his young years, he still didn’t give up hope? Why? 

_Why_

He had seen kindness in her eyes. He had seen love in her smile. He had heard the care in her voice. Or had his senses just picked up what his heart really desired? Was his lack of love in his life this big? His need to be wanted this great? To the point of allowing himself to be tricked over and over again? Would he ever learn from his mistakes?

“Come.” It was unbelievable how one single word could sound so gentle, so comforting. It was unbelievable how Lenore’s fingers against his skin felt so pleasant, so kind. Hector almost believed she truly cared for him. Almost.

He followed her, in a passive numb march. His head was spinning around so the world lost its gravity center and balanced uncontrolled side to side. His movements were not his own. The horror, the dread, the hopelessness had blocked all thoughts in his brains. He followed her but it could have been anybody else. He followed, needing somebody, something to follow. He followed, needing something to guide him out of the surreal reality he was trapped in.

“You will be staying in my quarters until yours are ready.” The vampire girl told while she opened a large heavy door. She turned to look up at the man and smiled tenderly. “Your days of suffering have come to an end.”

Hector’s eyes widened slightly at her words. He almost gave into that beautiful lie. He almost melted away in that sweet adoring gaze, that kind, and gentle smile, that comforting and reassuring voice. Almost. She tricked him once. She played with his heart like it was a cheap toy. She fooled him. Made him believe she liked him. Made him believe he mattered. Lies and more lies. She tricked him once, he'd be damned if she'd try to trick him again.

“No.” He refused, his voice a weak whisper. His eyes ran away from her gaze and searched for anything else but those beautiful red orbs. 

“What?” Lenore asked sincerely surprised, her smile never faltering. She witnessed Hector’s eyebrow’s furrow, while his eyes still averted hers.

“No.” The Forgemaster repeated, the whisper becoming a low thundering roar. Still avoiding her gaze, he did not see her expression change from pleasing merriness to confusion. 

“What do you mean, _no_?” Lenore asked mystified. Hector closed his eyes. His insides turned and twisted from nerves, from anger, from regret. He reopened his eyes and finally dared to look at his object of desire, the cause of his doom.

“I don’t want to stay here. I want to go back to my old cell.” He spoke so quietly, his voice was almost silent, like a plea that lost itself somewhere along the way.

“Your old cell?” The red-haired vampire questioned puzzled while she lifted her eyebrows.

“Yes. Not the new cell. I don’t want to come near the place where you (a pause and a sight) tricked me with sex.” His voice came out bitter and he felt the urge to shut his eyes again, a way of controlling the blinded anger that threatened to surface. 

There was a pause. A silence settled between the human and the vampire. And then Lenore laughed. Not pleasant laughter. Not that sound of a melodious harp made of crystalline water drops. It was demeaning laughter; one Hector was too familiar with. One Hector had heard all his life. Laughter full of mock and despise and ridicule.

“Oh, Hector. You truly are a funny man.” Lenore said between her last giggles, her fingers covering her lips for a moment. “I offer you comfort, a warm bed to lay on, a bath to warm up your cold bones, a dining table with cutlery, and all the proper objects of a civilized world, and you want to go back to your old cell?” She looked at him, amusement playing in her eyes, while she shook her head a bit. “Silly boy. Come.”

The vampire girl held his right wrist and pulled him inside the room. Hector didn’t even struggle. He was still trying to understand where he was. He was still trying to wake up from his nightmare. A nasty cold chill swept through his body when the sound of the door was shut behind him and echoed in the stones beneath his feet. His heart pumped faster as he understood. He had no opinion, no voice in this or any other matter. He was Lenore’s pet. He was bounded to her and had to do as requested. They walked till they reached the center of a room with a cozy fireplace, a desk, and chair at the corner, several shelves with books, a divan, two armchairs, and a round table with two chairs.

“Make yourself at home.” The girl’s sweet voice invited; a nauseated order camouflaged in honey. Hector glared at her angrily.

The room was cozy, warm, and comfortable. Yes, it looked like home. But this could never be home to him. Nowhere, in this castle, could be his home. Every stone, every door, every corner was there to remind him how he, unknowingly, gave up freedom to the charms of a pretty girl. This was a new illusion. A new beautiful lie. A false pretense of liberty. This was still a prison. It was no different than his cell, with the exception there were no visible bars.

“I prefer my old cell to all the luxuries you can offer me. I prefer to live in terrible conditions knowing it’s the real thing than playing pretends in a fucking golden cage.”

“So dramatic,” Lenore told in a teasing manner. Then her face shifted to an earnest expression. She lifted her hand and rested it gently on his cheek. He hated how the touch was appeasing and made him falter in his stubbornness. “You must understand, I cannot put you back in that cell. I cannot do that to you. You have suffered more than enough. You don’t deserve it. “

Of course, she wasn’t agreeing with his disturbing request. It sounded mad even to his own ears. It was the nature behind her words and gestures that revolted him. The knowledge Lenore pretended she cared for him when she didn’t. Looking back now, Hector realized how the red-haired girl had manipulated him from the very first day. She fed him with his scraps of a life of comfort that had been long forgotten in his endless march to Styria. She made him believe he had choices and that he was winning liberties, while in truth, she had him tied to a string the whole time and was steering him like a puppet. She had used his tiredness to confinement, his eagerness for fresh air, his longing for the tiniest glimpse of freedom to trick him. The little Lenore gave, made him feel quickly full. Hector truly felt like the fool he was. The more he realized his stupidity, the more he loathed Lenore. Hector locked his eyes on the vampires.

“But I deserve to be a slave?”

“I told you already. You are not a slave. “

“I’m your pet, how is that any better?” Hector asked upset and rose his voice a bit. “You took my freedom, made me your property!” He insisted and his voice cracked. Lenore was giving him the most compassionate look and he almost melted away in that gaze. Hector was caught off guard with an interior dilemma. His mind urged him to remember she had tricked him while his heart wanted to believe there was some truth to her intentions. An ocean of sadness invaded his soul, its waves bringing to shore the false promise Lenore had uttered just hours ago. “You knew I wanted to escape.”

“I explained to you before Hector. In diplomacy, you don’t get everything you want, but we all get something to be happy about in the end.” Lenore patiently told and Hector loathed the way she sounded right, the way she sounded sincere. Lies. Nothing but lies.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Hector shouted, giving into revolt, anger, and helplessness. “What am I supposed to be happy about?”

“Don’t you understand yet? You get to have comfort and safety. You get to have a place at the council and roam around the castle. You get to have your old job back and participate in the culling of humans, just like you wanted.”

“Oh my God. Haven’t you been listening to me? I want my freedom!” Hector put his hands off his hair and then brought them back down, in an exasperated gesture.

“You’re being irrational, Hector,” Lenore told, her endless patience finally starting to be tested. “Where would you go to anyway? You have no family and no friends. You would probably end up stabbed in the streets or burned at the stake if you wouldn’t die from cold and hunger first!”

“Don’t talk like that to me! I’ve managed myself all these years alone. I don’t need you to save me or whatever you want me to believe.” Hector retorted, venom tainting his voice. The vampire girl glared back at him with contained irritation. “But if you want to know, I would happily die in any of those circumstances as long as I was a free man!”

“Oh, for God’s sake! We’re walking in circles here.” The vampire said upset. “You need to calm down and start to think straight. You’re working yourself up for nothing.”

“Working myself up?” Hector spoke with disbelief.

“Yes, Hector. You’re overreacting.” Lenore said in a nonchalant manner and the man tasted her despise in the tip of his tongue. He stared at her in enraged incredibility, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips slightly apart. Lenore stared back at him, she put her chin a bit up, her posture screaming authority. The Forgemaster shook his head, knowing he had reached a dead end. He decided this wasn’t what he wanted. He still was master of his own will. And he would do everything to reclaim his freedom, even if it meant he would have to shit his heart out.

“Screw this!” He said in a broken hoarse voice just before his right hand traveled to his ring.

Lenore’s eyes widened when Hector, possessed by blind rage and desperation, attempted to remove the magical ring. Immediately, a hideous scream, the most grueling sound a human could ever produce, a noise of pure ghastly pain, echoed the room. Millions of needles pierced the skin. Knives on fire bore organs. Giant fingers crushed the skull. Hundreds of feet stamped his heart. Incandescent liquid melted his stomach. Lungs about to explode. That was the grisly tormented pain Hector’s body was invaded with. He fell on the floor and contorted screaming uncontrolled. It took the vampire only seconds to take Hector’s right hand away from the ring, but it was enough for the human to suffer the most agonizing kind of torture he had ever experienced.

The Forgemaster panted wildly, relieved but still in pain. His vision was a confusing blur of colors and shapes. His ears were buzzing loudly. He had lost all the strength on his body. His muscles spasmed while he lay on the floor covered on a cold sweat. His heart raced so fast under his skin, it felt like it was about to burst out his chest. General nausea swept his body and he felt his stomach contract. The man barely had time to turn to his side and lift himself enough to vomit whatever he was still digesting. He was so weak, he almost fell on top of his own puke, weren’t it for Lenore to pick him up just in time, holding him under his arms, preventing the disgusting humiliation.

“You fool! I told you would undergo excruciating pain; if you'd tried to take the ring off.” The vampire scolded, while she dragged a half-unconscious Hector through the division, his feet grazing numbly against the floor. When they reached a room where the walls were covered in tiles, she carefully dropped him on a carpet.

The Forgemaster forced his eyes to move, trying to find the source of the sound of running water. He was so lethargic; he didn’t even react when his clothing was removed. “You’re freezing,” Lenore said shocked when she touched his skin.

Lenore easily lifted him and guided him to enter a bathtub. The man closed his eyes, welcoming the warmness surrounding his body, the heat healing all his sore muscles, cuts, and bruises. A long soft sigh escaped his lips, as he allowed himself to be completely immersed by the curative waters. “There, that must feel better.”

The vampire spoke gently, while she hand-washed his face with the warm water. Hector tried to look at her, but his eyes kept rolling back. They kept falling back and he failed to keep them open longer than two seconds. He wanted to say something, but all that left his throat was an incomprehensive guttural grunt. “My silly boy,” Lenore said, while she caressed his hair, her fingers intertwining in his curls. “I bet you’ll never do that again.”

Hector was too weak and too exhausted to answer. Whatever dark magic worked in that ring, the after-effects of its failed attempt removal extended to the loss of all vitality. He felt himself slip away from consciousness and struggled to stay awake. He lost the battle against the weight of his eyes. He breathed deeply on the edge of sleep. The small part of his brains that were still awake felt Lenore’s hands travel his skin under the water, washing his cuts and bruises and whatever other pains away. The tiny part of his mind that was still awake sensed the vampire effortlessly take him out of the water and dry him with a soft towel. The last thing he remembered, before surrendering completely to slumber, was his head touching something soft, while his body was enveloped in a warm cocoon of flower-scented linen.


	2. First Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> Writer: Darktragicangel  
> Beta: Shadowking514
> 
> I want to give a big thanks to everybody that commented and sent kudos. I really enjoyed reading your reactions about the first chapter. It keeps me motivated. It makes me want to write even more, knowing there are so many people enjoying the reading.
> 
> Also, a very special thanks to Shadowking514, who volunteered to BETA this story and «Somewhere Between»
> 
> For you, Shadowking514, here’s a thanks in my mother tongue: Obrigada!

_There was silence. Everywhere he looked was blue. There was no weight. There was no gravity. A cool sapphire blue. A warm light traveling from an unknown source. He floated. Gentle and slow. Down and down. Weightless and silent. Peaceful. There was no pain. There was no sorrow. Only turquoise blue and a white light shining high up. He flew. Softly and swift. Up and up. Nursed by a wind of cobalt and yellow light. There was no sadness. There was no suffering. Peaceful. There was only happiness. There was only love. He was free._

Aquamarine eyes opened lazily. Their vision met a sea of wavy ginger resting on a pearl white shoulder. A long heavy breath followed while he stretched his limbs like a cat. The mass of red locks stirred while a body moved languidly under the covers. Lenore, who was already half-awake, turned to face Hector. Her red gaze met his blue eyes and her lips pursed in a kind smile.

“Good afternoon.” Lenore whispered softly. Hector didn’t have the heart to refuse a smile. “Are you feeling better?” She asked and his smile slowly faded to be replaced by a pensive expression.

“Yeah. I’m back to my old self.” He whispered his answer, his voice pleasantly hoarse and thick from the sleep. Lenore looked at him contemplatively. She brought her fingers to his hair, brushing some strands of silver away from his beautiful eyes.

“You know, being my pet is the best position you can have as a human in the vampire world. You are not food and, unlike slaves, you have rights.” The redhead said, taking advantage of the relaxed atmosphere. She hoped, now that the man had calmed down, he could be reasoned with.

“I – I don’t understand...” Hector told sincerely, bitterness settling itself in his gut.

“As my pet, you are under my care and protection.” Lenore explained while a thumb caressed Hector’s cheekbone. He felt the bitter aftertaste of betrayal slowly fade away as he lost himself in the loving gaze she was giving him. “You are safe with me. Nobody can touch you now, not even my sisters. Otherwise, they’ll have to face me.”

“Something tells me you are more dangerous than any of them.” Hector meant to say it in an unkind manner, instead, he sounded playful and Lenore smiled at his unintentional quip.

“What makes you think that?” Lenore asked in the same playful manner and this time it was Hector’s turn to smile.

“I bet they underestimate you as I did in our first meeting.”

“Oh yeah, I had already forgotten about that. It was quite a first encounter.”

“Yeah, far from romantic, but quite memorable.” Both chuckled at his last statement and nuzzled a bit under the covers. Yet, it was short-lived, as Hector’s face tensed and a look of sadness filled his eyes. Lenore didn’t miss it.

“Think you can live with this new agreement?”

“I guess. It is better than being dragged barefoot for miles or being kept in a cell-like a decrepit animal.” The Forgemaster admitted and sighed afterward. “I just wished you hadn’t lied.”

“I never lied, Hector. Everything I told was true. Everything.” Lenore reassured, her hand resting on his cheek and Hector felt suddenly extremely vulnerable. He understood what she meant but he still could not forget the betrayal. He wasn’t ready to forgive her.

“It’s hard to believe you after you betrayed me and put that fucking ring on me.” His voice came out rougher than he expected and even he was surprised how bitter he sounded.

“Hector…”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you. You lied when you told me you liked me. You lied when you told you would escape with me. All you wanted was to get me to speak the words needed to activate the magic on this ring.” He said while he raised his hand, revealing the cursed object.

“I didn’t lie, Hector. I do like you. Quite a lot, actually.” Lenore confessed, looking shy and embarrassed at the same time. Had she not been a vampire, she would certainly have blushed. “Listen, the ring is only for the forging. And it’s a protective measure for my sisters.”

“What do you mean?”

“You would hurt any of them the first chance you got. Especially Carmilla. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Ok, you’re right about that.” Hector admitted. “I guess that’s a valid justification to seduce me and trap me in a spell when nearing orgasm. Perfectly legitimate!” Hector said sarcastically, clearly upset. He sat up, becoming too agitated to continue lying down. Lenore followed his example, revealing a light blue satin dress that fits beautifully on her figure, rounding her chest favorably. Enough was left for the imagination and Hector hated himself for feeling his body temperature rise at the lovely sight next him.

“Please, understand this. You didn’t give me any options.” Lenore tried to reason, her small hand reaching for his. He moved his hand away at the contact, looking violated.

“Oh, so it’s my fault now.”

“It’s not what I meant.” Lenore calmly spoke, her diplomatic patience never dying. “Look, Carmilla’s plan was ready to go. You were the only piece of the plan that was still missing. Without you, even with Morana’s mercenaries, the plan could fail. Mercenaries are paid by the highest bidder; they are therefore not trustworthy. You don’t see it but, _you_ Hector, are the plan’s most important asset. We need loyal soldiers and the ring is to guarantee that loyalty to our Council of Sisters.”

“All right. I understand your logic and the political strategy behind it all.” Hector told and Lenore smiled relieved. “It doesn’t mean I have to agree with the fact you toyed with my feelings to solve your _loyalty_ issue.” Lenore smile vanished right away at those words and for a moment, Hector would swear he read guilt on her face.

“I am sorry, Hector. I never meant to hurt your feelings. But it was the only way I found in solving the _loyalty_ issue and guarantee your well-being.”

“So, your diplomacy sacrificed my freedom and feelings in exchange for safety. What have your sisters sacrificed?” Hector wondered out loud, while he looked down at his hands, his fingers turning the ring absently.

“They get to swallow their vampire pride and accept you as the fifth member of the council and treat you, a human, as an equal.”

“Does that mean I will truly have a voice in your council, or will I be there only for the show, while the _real people are talking_?” The Forgemaster spoke with spite and Lenore’s guilty expression returned.

“I didn’t really mean that.” She said sheepishly.

“It sure sounded very sincere.” A silence settled between them after those words. It sounded like the final punch in their discussion. Vampire and human sat tensed next to each other on Lenore’s bed, under the lavender-colored covers. Hector failed to repress a despondent sigh, his eyes never leaving the magical ring. The redhead glanced at him sideways and bit her underlip when a new thought occurred to her brilliant diplomatic mind.

“I admit my conduct yesterday in your cell wasn’t correct…” Lenore started.

“More like fucking immoral.”

“And I apologize. But as I said before, I never lied to you.” The Forgemaster turned his head to look at her and she could read the tired wariness on his eyes. “I really do like you. And I do want to escape with you and give you your freedom back one day. But not today. When you’ve made enough night creatures to secure Carmilla’s new empire’s boundaries, then you can leave. With me, if you would like, if you will have me.”

She shifted to sit on her knees, facing him. Lenore rested both her hands on Hector’s. He looked down at their hands and didn’t dare to move them this time. He redirected his gaze to the vampire and stared back in large scared eyes, while hopeful anticipation grew in his heart. “I want to give myself to you as you did to me yesterday. I want to make the same pledge and be yours.”

Lenore’s red eyes became soft and caring while they locked with the aquamarine ones. Hector could feel his fragile heart beat harder and faster in her words. He wanted to believe her. He wanted so desperately to believe her, but he was scared to be tricked a second time. And be hurt again. “That is why I want to make a new agreement with you.”

Immediately Hector’s brows pressed together, and Lenore sensed a protest in its way. “Only between you and me. Only ours. Nothing to do with my sisters.” She carefully said. She held each of Hector’s hands in hers and smiled at the way their skin colors contrasted, just like their size. The red-haired girl sensed the Forgemaster relax and locked her eyes on his again. “When we are alone, in my quarters or yours, I’ll remove both our rings.” At this, Hector’s eyes grew in disbelief, his lips departed slightly from surprise, a silent gasp escaping between them. “We’ll be equals in our own private spaces. But the moment one of us leaves, we put the rings back on. It will not interfere with the night creatures’ loyalty since you will be wearing the ring during the forging. Still, my sisters must never know, or they’ll consider me a traitor.”

“Equals?” Hector spoke breathless and Lenore nodded with a grave expression. “You are still ten times stronger than me.” He said in a lighthearted manner and the vampire smiled.

“You are still a sorcerer. And one immune to sunlight.” She knowingly said while she nodded towards the window’s closed blinds.

Hector smiled amused and tender. Lenore knew he had agreed and removed her own ring. His eyes grew in gratefulness and his heartbeat a little faster from hope and glee. She then brought her index and thumb to his ring. The man flinched ever the slightest while a small scared gasp escaped his mouth. The vampire looked at him, never releasing the ring. “This won’t hurt. I promise.” He pressed his lips together and nodded. Never leaving her eyes from Hector’s, she slowly pulled the ring from his finger. She placed both rings on the palm of her left hand and showed them to the Forgemaster.

“Thank you.” He sincerely whispered, impressed with her bold decision. He watched her place the rings on the bedside table. He noticed a small tremble on her fingers but kept it to himself.

“Ah.” She said while she exhaled a bit nervously. “So, did I win your trust back?”

“A small part of it.”

“Well. At least it’s a start.” Lenore said in a playful manner, but Hector could sense the nerves hidden behind the smile.

“It’s a start.” He agreed and loved the way the girl’s smile instantly grew wider. They glanced at each other and both laughed relieved. Afterward, Hector gave Lenore that sweet shy smile she adored.

“Oh, oh! I just realized something!” The vampire girl said excited, lifting her hands half-closed to her chest’s level. Hector’s eyes widened a bit from curiosity. “We just had our first fight.” To her delight, Hector barked a laughter. Not the bitter chuckle or the sarcastic snicker, but a burst of carefree spontaneous laughter. It was the first time the vampire heard that sincere sound.

“So, now what?” He asked amused.

“I believe crazed lovemaking is required in such situations.” Lenore said in an unbearably teasing seductive manner, while she caressed his jawline with the back of her hand.

“Oh real – Ah!” Hector yelped and giggled right afterward, when Lenore pushed him down and kissed under his chin, down to his neck, back upwards until she met his lips.

They kissed. Languidly. Arms enveloped backs, legs intertwined. The bodies came closer until they were pressed together. Their tongues met hungrily, exchanging saliva, tasting each other’s sweetness. Gasps and soft moans escaped when lips were separated to catch some air. Lenore traced chaste tender kisses along Hector’s skin, each touch warming the spot like little pleasant burns. Her hands touched ghostly his ribs, his stomach, his arms until she found his hands. A line of hot pecks and harmless bites was drawn from his chest to his navel and ending at the edge of silver curls. The vampire girl smiled proudly at the considerable size his already half-hard cock had gained. Her hands left him and traveled to between his thighs, her lips and teeth nibbling his delicate skin, making him shudder from thrilling pleasure. Hector closed his eyes and buried the back of his head further on the pillow at the wondrous sensations. The redhead held his hardness and pulled its skin back so she could kiss the tip of its head. She heard a gasp and a stifled moan. Her tongue then caressed the velveted skin before her mouth enveloped just the tip with her warmness. Her fangs pressed faintly against the sensible tissue and Hector thought he was going to lose it. Lenore’s indulging made him shiver in hot fever. As she allowed his length deeper in her mouth, her fingers caressed the base of his cock, toying with his balls; the Forgemaster lost himself a bit more. He panted, releasing muffed grunts and groans.

A protesting whine escaped his throat when Lenore abandoned his stimulated manhood. The vampire placed her legs on each side of his hips, so she could sit on top of him. She moved the fabric of her dress out of the way, exhibiting her bare vulva. Her hand found his length and rubbed its tip against her moisturized lips. She meowed of anticipation and invited the head into her entrance. Both moaned loudly when he entered her, they bodies fitting perfectly in each other, the warmth and the friction increasing the enjoyment.

“Oh Hector! You feel so wonderful.” Lenore told in a strained voice, her back curving at the growing pleasure. The Forgemaster only managed a choked grunt as an answer, his eyes never leaving her sensual body.

Lenore moved on top of Hector her eyes finding his. His hands rested on her hips and pressed with force, as her movements allowed him deeper inside of her. His fingers clasped the fabric of her sating nightgown, lifted it up and Lenore helped in removing the dress. He gasped at the sight of her perfect body, petit but nicely modeled. His hands traveled up her flat stomach to cup her rounded firm breasts. He squeezed them gently, earning a soft meowing, pinched her nipples, winning a delightful moan. “I want to pledge my loyalty to you.” She told between her pants and Hector’s eyes shone from both suffering and enjoyment. She locked her red eyes on his, her face reflecting his expression. “I want to be yours. I want to belong to you.” Lenore said between her pants.

She moaned and Hector lost himself at her words. He moved deeper and faster, burning her insides with delightful friction. They moved in synchrony, in a tango of sweet tenderness and hot passion. They sang in harmony, her meowing a crescendo of moans backed up by his deep groans. Their fingertips explored each inch of their bodies until their hands met and intertwined tightly. “I promise I’ll take care of you. I promise you’ll be safe with me. I promise I’ll be yours if you’ll take me. I’ll be yours forever.”

The bed squeaked as Hector banged harder under Lenore, the sound of their skins slapping against each other with increasing speed. Their bodies were covered in a thin layer of sweat, glowing under the dim light that illuminated the room. “Please take me, Hector. Make me yours.” She begged between moans, her voice becoming urgent by each pounding under her. “Take me, oh please, take me!” The redhead shouted, nearing her climax, her tights contracting madly around his hard length.

“I’ll take you.” Hector choked the words, he too coming close.

“As yours?” Lenore’s voice was thin, strangled by the pressure building up in her body

“Yes, I’ll take you as mine.” Hector hurriedly said. His words hit the center of her core and Lenore felt an unbearable wave of sublime pleasure explode between her legs, spreading its heat to her thighs and belly. She screamed of sublime ecstasy, her moans coming deep from her throat as an expression of pure joy and relief.

“Ah!”

Hector followed shortly after, Lenore’s orgasm drawing the final push for him to reach his own climax. The last trust hit her womb with magnitude, his erection jerking and spilling his milk inside her soft warmness. He panted loudly and his body became instantly numb. Lenore came to rest on top of him, she fastened breathing matching his.

“God, that was really good.” She said while she nuzzled her nose against his neck.

Hector made an illegible sound, but the vampire was sure meant to agree with her. She could feel his heart drum extremely fast against her chest, she could feel the heat irradiating from his skin. She closed her eyes, enjoying the quickened breathing and the way his chest rose and dropped at each pant. Slowly, the drumming diminished, the breathing stabilized, the fever dropped down. Lenore lazily pulled the covers up and looked at Hector’s face. His eyes were closed and she could sense him floating down into drowsiness. She felt still active and had to control herself not to wake him up and demand his attention. She knew how human bodies worked and even one as strong as Hector’s needed its rest to regain its strength and vitality. The Forgemaster was young and she knew he would soon wake up and be ready to indulge her with all kinds of pleasures. It was still hours away from sunset. They had plenty of time ahead of them. The girl vampire allowed her sweet pet to sleep and instead melted at the way his face became even prettier, his expression becoming one of perfect peacefulness.


	3. Morana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> Writer: Darktragicangel  
> Beta: ShadowKing514

Lenore sat on her chair in the Council room with a long-contented sigh. Her sisters switched glances among them before their eyes rested on the red-haired girl.

“Good-evening, girls.” Lenore greeted, her voice dripping in happiness, her smile dreamy.

“Ugk, I don’t even want to know.” Carmilla muttered before she stood up and walked to the glass shelve. She was needing a good dose of refined blood.

“Our young sister looks very pleased today.” Striga pointed out.

“Oh, please, do not invite her.” Carmilla told in a lazy annoyed voice before she took a sip of the comforting drink. “It obviously has to do with her newest acquired _pet_.” Lenore’s eyebrows pressed only slightly at the woman’s depreciative tone, but she gave no attention to it. Instead, she smiled triumphantly, straightened her back and put one leg over the other.

“By the matter of fact, yes, it does have to do with _Hector_.” The redhead confirmed, putting extra emphasis on his name, while her eyes glistened and her smile widened.

“I expected him to be mad with you.” Morana told, sounding quite surprised.

“Oh, he was mad. So mad, the fool tried to get the ring off. He regretted immediately, of course. I’m sure he learned his lesson.” Lenore recounted nonchalantly. Carmilla and Morana snickered, while Striga looked plain serious. “We had our first fight and then our first peace love-making!” She said excitedly, giving tiny jumps on her chair like a little child. Carmilla and Morana groaned disgusted while Striga brought her hand to her temple.

“Please, spare us the details.” Striga spoke in a low begging tone.

“We made love all day long.” Lenore said with the dreamiest voice, a loving look in her eyes and her hands clasped against her heart. All three women made protesting sounds accompanied by troubled expressions. “Turns out, I don’t need to train him that much, after all. He’s already quite proficient in…”

“Please, Lenore, stop.” Carmilla told, her eyes closed, her eyebrows furrowed. One hand had her fingertips resting on her forehead and the other was making a halting gesture to the youngest vampire. The redhead left her sentence unfinished and smirked amused at the queen’s dismay. “Thank you,” Carmilla said, opening her eyes. “Shall we focus on our war strategy? Now that, ugh – Hector (she failed to repress a shudder of disgust at the thought the human and her dear sister had been behaving like animals in heat just hours ago) - is loyal to us, we can start planning the first invasions.”

“Speaking of Hector, where is he? I thought he would attend the meeting.” Morana spoke, her elegant fingers pointing at the recently added and vacant chair.

“Oh, I left him sleeping. I think he was completely worn-out. You know, from all the exercise.” Lenore said with a teasing smirk.

“God no, there she goes again.” Striga mumbled disheartened.

“But did you need him here?” The red-haired vampire asked Morana, looking more serious.

“Well, it would have come in handy. I need to know what kind of monsters he can create, so I can plan which kinds, how many of them and where to place them in our war.” 

“I can fetch him if you would like.” Lenore spoke with a stern tone, while she pointed at the door with her thumb.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll talk to him later. Think I rather don’t see you two together, right now.” Morana spoke placidly.

“I agree.” Striga mumbled.

“Yeah.” Carmilla said with a hint of arrogance.

“I don’t understand what the matter is with you girls today.” Lenore said in a childish fake manner, while she crossed her arms.

…

Morana wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of having to cooperate with a human. Carmilla described the young Forgemaster as an idiot, a gullible man easily manipulated. Based on the little she knew about Hector, the vampire had to agree with her queen. After all, he had been first lied by Dracula, later used by Carmilla and finally tricked by Lenore. It was hard to believe a man that revealed to be this trusting and kept making the same mistakes, could possess even the smallest amount of intellect. And yet, he was a Devil’s Forgemaster. A rare trade reserved only to the most talented and brilliant of minds.

Lenore had told Morana, where Hector lacked life-experience; he excelled in scholarship. Having an alchemist as a father, the Forgemaster had been in contact with the occult arts from a very young age. He surpassed many academics with his knowledge about alchemy, necromancy and dark arts. Also, Lenore had told Hector was fluent in the classical languages such as Ancient Hebrew, Ancient Greek, and Latin, and was as equally comfortable with the antediluvian Enochian idiom and the forbidden Devil’s Tongue. Hector, despite living in relative isolation, was renowned for his intellect among the scholar’s society, throughout the entire Aegean region. This had been the reason Dracula had wanted to meet him. The reason that Dracula had been impressed with the prodigy child. 

The contrasting descriptions mystified Morana. It was like she was receiving information about two completely different persons. Morana hated this because her sisters’ opposing accounts gave a very imprecise idea about the man and the vampire disliked anything that was ambiguous. She was a woman of structure and organization and anything that came close to vagueness bothered her. She wondered to what point Carmilla demeaned Hector due to her hatred for humans. And to what point Lenore embellished her description due to her obvious infatuation for him. Dracula seemed to be the only reliable source. The recently deceased Lord was never easily impressed.

The vampire concluded she soon would find out what kind of character this Hector was. Morana was not surprised to learn the Forgemaster was in the castle’s main library. She entered the room and, unlike Lenore, made no sound as she hovered a few inches above the ground, approaching the man unnoticed. Yet the human, who was standing on a ladder reaching for a book, held his movements and turned to look at her.

“You heard me?” Morana asked surprised. The man glanced at her with a neutral expression, turned back to the shelve, picked up a book and descended. He placed it on a desk, next to other two other manuscripts.

“No. But you carry a scent. The four of you all do.” Hector explained.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a – let’s say – sorcerer’s ability.” The man told and could see by her expression, she wasn’t quite following him. “All sorcerers develop a high sense of smell. That’s how we recognize a fellow magician.”

“But I’m no magician.”

“No. But you are a vampire with magical powers.” He casually told and the vampire lifted an eyebrow sceptic.

“Magical powers?”

“You did just hover over here, right? I didn’t hear you.”

“That I did, yes.” Morana admitted. She became a bit curious. “What do I smell like?”

“Scorching sand and myrrh.” Hector told without any hesitance and Morana lifted her elegant eyebrows. He basically described her homeland. “I’m guessing you didn’t come to the library to borrow an exemplar from this impressive collection.”

“Indeed not.” She confirmed, while her eyes rested on the three books of Hector’s choice. “I came because I need to speak with you about night creatures. I need to know what kind of monsters you can forge so I can start organizing my war strategy.”

“Of course.”

…

After one hour and a half, Morana had had an intensive course about night creatures. With the aid of two valuable volumes, Hector pointed out which monsters were the most adequate for her strategy goals. The vampire appreciated the way he went straight to the point and how he described objectively the abilities and strengths of the different creatures, without once having the necessity of bragging about his skills like most men seemed to do. In fact, after an hour and a half, Morana concluded collaborating with the Devil’s Forgemaster wasn’t that bad after all. The man was quiet and had a reserved posture, which made him come over as serious and professional. He was well-articulated and was backed up by a vast knowledge of alchemy, necromancy, and magic. She now understood Dracula’s interest in the human.

“You should use the Blue Fangs species for the night creatures’ generals.” Hector suggested while he pointed at the drawing of the warg-like demon. “In Dracula’s army, Blue Fangs led several city raids. They are highly intelligent and have the ability to solve unforeseen problems during assaults. Also, they possess a strong vocabulary. You’d be surprised, they are quite entertaining conversationalists.”

“Are they?” Morana asked while she wrote some notations on a parchment. “Have you engaged in conversations with them often?”

“I did, in the past. Before Dracula and the war.” Hector told and the vampire lifted her eyes to look at the man. “I was most of the time alone and, although I was always surrounded by my animal pets – well, that’s not quite the same as having somebody to talk to.”

“I suppose not. What kind of subjects did you discuss with Blue Fangs?”

“It depended on what they did in their former lives.” The Forgemaster said with a relaxed smile. “You see, they remember their lives, before Hell, before becoming demons. However, many memories do remain vague. I’ve come across old souls of former rulers, militaries, philosophers, poets…”

“Did you ever encounter former vampires’ souls?” Morana asked curiously.

“I did, once. Many years ago. I will never forget him. Was quite the creep.” The Forgemaster pushed back his memory. “He had been some kind of Lord. A powerful one, I believe. He told me how he enjoyed torturing both enemies and subjects. Described me the most gruesome and sadistic techniques I’ve ever heard of. Can you imagine? He told me with pride, he abused his wife so much, she still had nightmares about him.”

“Did he tell you where he ruled? I might have known him.” Morana asked wide-eyed, Hector’s description hit a bit too close to home.

“Well, that’s the problem with demons, they forget many things about their former lives. He remembered snow, so it can be anywhere in the northern hemisphere. He couldn’t remember his name, nor his wife’s or anybody he knew. He only remembered bits and pieces of his life.”

“I see.” Morana murmured with a pensive expression and pushed away from the disturbing feeling that was settling in her gut. She needed to focus on her goal. Whoever that vampire had been, he belonged to the past. “I suppose their former lives influence their personality. Would that become a problem, should we encounter such a soul?”

“No. They are obedient and will follow their master’s command without question. Their personality has more influence in the way they kill than in the way they lead.”

“Good. Well, I believe we are done for the night. Thank you for your collaboration. I believe I have enough material to work on.” Morana told, while she stood up and rolled her parchment with notations.

“Should you need to know anything else.” Hector said with a kind smile.

“I’ll know where to find you.” The woman finished his trail of thoughts and the tiniest of smiles curled up at the sides of her mouth. “I do have a question, unrelated to the war. Why these books?”

“Oh, I’m interested in knowing more about the vampire culture.” The human said while his fingertips traveled on one of the manuscripts titles.

“Does Lenore have something to do with this?”

“She might have triggered my interest, yes. But I seem to have built an erroneous conception about your species.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I used to compare vampires to animals with a sense of community, acting as a whole. I know it sounds silly, but animals are something I – relate easily to. But I was wrong. Animals have rules and they respect those rules. Humans don’t. Turns out neither do vampires. Both species are equally predisposed to plotting, scheming and back-stabbing. So right now, I’m trying to figure out which are worse. Humans or vampires.”

“Humans, obviously.” Morana arrogantly told, not quite enjoying the man’s interpretation. 

“You might be right. My experience with humans is that they are cruel, ignorant, greedy, driven by fear and power, with the tendency for corruption. Still, I wonder at what point do vampires have these flaws too.”

“We might not be perfect, but we certainly aren’t monsters, like you humans like to think.” She told while she pointed her index accusingly at the man.

“And so does Lenore keep telling me. Yet, since I entered Dracula’s Court to the present day, the contrary hasn’t been proven yet.”

“You realize if it weren’t for Lenore’s protection, you wouldn’t come out unharmed with such an assertion.”

“Oh, I know. Lenore has made it very clear to me. But I also know the only reason you accepted Lenore’s conditions, is because you need my skills. I’m not much of a use to you if I am wounded, ill or dead, am I?” Morana resisted the urge to frown upset at the man’s daring allegation, because, unfortunately, he was right. They did need his skills. “So, for now, I’ll read about your ways of life and customs. Who knows, I might change my perception about vampires. Again.”

Hector said with a sardonic smile, which only survived a moment, being replaced by a bored expression. He picked up the three heavy books and walked past Morana. He gave her a nod as a greeting before exiting the library, without adding a word.

Morana wasn’t sure if she should feel enraged or humored by the man’s daring attitude. More than ever, she wished she could torture the bastard. She was sure the look of agony on his face and the screams of terror and pain would appease her. She chuckled internally at the cruel thought. Maybe Hector had a point, after all.

The vampire looked down at her parchment, holding the valuable information the human had given her. Hector was nothing like she had expected him to be. He was far from being an idiot. She could read, under the layer of his amiable discourse and gentle expression while he talked, the cunning behind his gleaming eyes. She feared Carmilla was underestimating him. He might have been once naïve and pliable, but Carmilla’s actions obviously reshaped his way of thinking. Hector had had plenty of time to do a lot of thinking during his one-month march to Styria and the many hours he spent alone in his cell. Morana had the feeling, Carmilla’s actions pushed him into growing up fast and becoming more vigilant and wary. A circumspect Hector could become a threat.

Morana was also concerned about Lenore. Despite being the youngest of the quartet, the girl had always been the most observant of the four. She had a way of reading other’s emotions and personalities, easily predicting how one would react. This was the reason she was so good in diplomacy. But Morana was afraid Lenore’s infatuation for Hector would become an obstacle to her always impartial insight. She feared the girl would idealize the man and refuse to see the signs of danger, should these emerge.

This was why Morana decided to tell Striga her thoughts about Hector while keeping the other two sisters out. She and Striga would keep an eye on the man. The slightest suspicious move and they would be there to save Carmilla and Lenore.


	4. Blacksmith magician

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> Writer: Draktragicangel´  
> Beta: Shadowking514

Five days had flown by since Lenore told Carmilla to deal with Hector’s new arrangement. During these five days, Hector had come to meet two different Lenore's. One in the private sphere and one in the public domain.

When they were alone and, like she had promised, with their rings off; the vampire acted the kindest and the sweetest. Hector soon discovered Lenore enjoyed spoiling him with basically everything. From new clothes to delicious food; to wonderful massages and new sex positions. He had absolutely nothing to complain about the vampire girl, on the contrary, never had anybody demonstrated this much care for him as Lenore. He believed she truly wanted him to be at ease, feel safe, be happy. He felt she respected him, always wanting to know his opinion in different matters and listen to whatever he had to tell. Hector knew he was falling dangerously for her. It was difficult not to.

Hector felt more and more drawn to Lenore each passing day. Never in his life had he felt this attracted to a woman. The redheaded vampire seemed to hold an invisible power over him. It was more than passionate sex, that he was sure. It was everything about Lenore. The look in her eyes, her voice, her smile, her gestures. Her ideas and opinions, her intellect, her capability of persuasion but also her ability to see and understand other’s points of view. Her kindness and gentleness. By each passing day, he cherished the vampire more and more. The desire of being with her grew to the point of wanting to touch her all the time, listen to her voice all the time, be connected to her all the time. It was as wonderful as it was concerning.

Because Lenore changed outside her chamber’s door. Once they had their rings back on, Hector felt like he was immediately reduced to her pet slave, losing all his dignity as a real person. In the only Council meeting, he ever attended up to the date, where he had spent most of the time silent (he had spoken two sentences when a direct question was posed to him) it had not only been extremely awkward but also humiliating. Lenore would implicitly brag about the slave ring, her pet’s behavior and abilities on a regular basis, making him feel utterly stupid while she made quite a display of her ego and pride. Independently of where they were in the castle, every time he agreed with her or obeyed in whatever; she would always compliment with that _good boy_ phrase he was increasingly hating. Sometimes her tone was so demeaning, the Forgemaster would barely recognize the woman he shared intimacy. 

As much as he liked Lenore, the truth was, Hector was still very angry because of the whole slave ring thing and the implications surrounding it. Above all, he absolutely hated the way the redhead changed, once they left her quarters. Yet, he never let it transpire. If there was something he had learned in the last months, it was not to be completely honest about everything. Because as virtuous honesty was, it could easily be used as a weapon against oneself.

In the end, Hector’s feelings for Lenore were conflicting. He still didn’t quite know what to believe in. He had the strange sensation he was floating somewhere between lies and truths. However, right now, his heart was bursting from overwhelming gratitude. His new quarters were ready. The old outbuilding Lenore had talked about at the Council room was a house twice as big as the one he had lived in Rhodes. It was located to the east, facing the sunrise, so the building would be immersed by the warm light from the morning onwards. It was connected to the main castle building only by a wooden covered walkway, so Lenore could come and go safely during the sun hours. The girl vampire had guaranteed his house was off-limits to everybody else, including her sisters. There would always be a guard in the castle, at the entrance of the walkway, to make sure this rule was respected.

The house had large windows and a back door that lead outside, where he was free to plant flower and vegetable gardens. The house’s interior was more than spacious for one person to live in it. It had all the comforts he could ever wish for. Beautiful furniture, carpets, and tapestries, ornaments, and bookshelves full of literature. The building was warmed by a system of heated pipes that traveled from the large fireplace in the living room. Hector felt lightheaded as he walked from division to division, his eyes wide and his lips slightly apart from awe.

“This is … This is…” He murmured surprise struck, his eyes scanning his surroundings for the countless time. Lenore giggled at his reaction. “I never…”

“Lost for words?’” Lenore asked amused and Hector turned to face her, his expression of genuine disbelief and marvel. He opened and closed his mouth, and then chuckled. He, indeed, could not find any words to describe what he was experiencing. “Have you ever had a house with this kind of luxuries?”

“No. Not even close.” His answer came in a gasp, his fingertips tracing the wood of the furniture, like if he needed to feel it believe it was real. “Even my quarters at Dracula’s castle were modest compared to this.”

“Feeling a bit like an aristocrat?”

“Yeah, definitely.” He nodded with a chuckle. “This is too much, Lenore. It’s too wonderful.” He said in a voice that expressed his glee. “What have I done to deserve this?”

“You should ask yourself why wouldn’t you deserve this, Hector.” Lenore said while she walked towards him and placed her palms on his chest. “Your life shouldn’t be only suffering.”

The vampire sensed his breath get caught in his throat, followed by a shudder of vulnerability he tried his best to conceal. It had been on the second week of her visits to his cell when Lenore picked up, for the first time, a flash of fragility in his eyes. It had come and gone so quickly, she thought she had imagined it. As the Forgemaster became gradually more at ease with her presence, that flash of vulnerability would surge in his eyes more frequently, always too fast to catch it. The more they grew better acquainted, the more often Hector would accidentally let his guard down, if only for a second; before he would raise back his protective barrier around him.

Lenore knew it had to do with his past, his childhood and youth, his parents, his hometown villagers’ kids, his fellow-humans. He had given her hints of what she was certain was an abusive past and traumatic memories. The vampire feared Hector had too low self-esteem, which would explain why he was so easily moved by even the tiniest kind words and gestures. She wanted to know more about his past, but would not press on the matter. Lenore preferred Hector to open up willingly to her, instead of acquiring her much desired answers by force. As for now, she would do her best to make him see the incredible person he was. She melted at the tender look he gave her, that small shy smile that made her heart beat a bit faster.

“I have no idea how to repay you for all this.” Hector told, his eyes glistering from sincere joy.

“Silly, this is us paying you for forging us an army.” Lenore said in a giggle, butterflies swimming up to her belly.

“Only I haven’t forged anything yet. You told the first bodies should arrive in a couple of days.” Hector pointed out. “Is this an advance payment?”

“Hum, it seems to be.” Lenore said with a pensive look, while she brought her index to her chin. “I suppose you could give a token of gratitude to our good-faith.” She seductively said and read the fire rise to his ocean blue eyes.

“Have any ideas?” He teasingly asked and both looked in the bedroom’s direction at the same time, Lenore’s requested large bed visible through the open door.

…

They had raced to the bedroom and undressed hurriedly among entertained laughter. They had kissed madly, translating their lust, their passion, their need to feel the other close, always closer. They had made crazy lovemaking, touching, biting, scratching between moans of pleasure and cries of passion. Their bodies had united with desperate need, with racing hearts, short breaths, and sweaty bodies. They had reached the peak of insane ecstasy almost simultaneously, calling out for their names. Less than a week had gone by since they first bounded but, each time they connected physically, they felt closer to each other. It just kept getting better and better. After their bodies cooled down, they always stayed lying together, holding each other, nuzzling sweetly, relishing the laziness that followed sex.

“There is one issue regarding the forging.” Hector said while he stretched himself like a lazy cat, under Lenore’s tight hug.

“What is that?” She asked planting a soft dry kiss next to his nipple.

“I don’t have my magical hammer with me. It stayed at Dracula’s castle.”

“Can you make a new one?”

“I can. But I need a series of specific ingredients. Most things you can find at a regular smith, but there are some things that are of magical nature.”

“I know exactly the person that can help you.” Lenore proudly announced and Hector smiled sincerely.

…

“Ah! I was wondering when I would have the pleasure of meeting the Devil’s Forgemaster in person.” An old man made his way through a confusing accumulation of all kinds of metallic tools, armors, and other steel artifacts. Each step he made produced an iron sound, for his legs, from the knees downwards, were made of metal. “I could smell the fire of Hell before you even stepped into my forge.”

The man was small, slightly shorter than Lenore, but bulky with broad shoulders and muscled arms. His hair was snow-white with a few locks of dark gray in between, his face a joyful collection of wrinkles, his smile missing a few teeth, including one of his fangs. He only halted when he stood right in front of Hector, their height difference accentuated by the closeness. The vampire mage stretched his head up so he could take a proper look at the young man. “Impressive. Quite a specimen.”

Hector’s forehead wrinkled in some mystification and gave a perplexed look at Lenore. The girl merely smiled contented, her hands neatly folded in front of her. Without asking for permission, the blacksmith grabbed Hector’s hands, turned his palms up and stared at them for a while. He made a strange twitch with his head just before he mumbled something incomprehensible. Hector’s eyes grew wide at the bold move and glanced over Lenore again, who nodded back in a reassuring manner. The old vampire placed his own rough cracked hands on the human’s young skin. He pressed his thumbs in the middle of the palms and Hector flinched, as he felt an electrifying shock travel his spine. “Ah, magnificent. Such energy, such great vitality.” The old man appraised and looked up again at the startled man. “Your magic is like water, smooth and fluid like a river, but strong and mighty like a tempestuous ocean. Your magic is like the sky, travels like the wind and carries electricity through the air.” He released the human’s hands and turned to Lenore. “I must warn you, my dear. This one will have a temper when triggered.”

“No worries, Blacksmith. I have him under control.” She spoke in that mortifying lovingly and despising tone that worked in Hector’s nerves. She wrapped her arms around his right arm and sensed his muscles tense. She looked up a bit surprised, meeting his eyes and could see he was far from amused. She then got on the tip of her toes and planted a kiss on his cheek. The old vampire snickered, knowing how wrong she was. “I’ll leave you, boys, for now. Please, assist Hector in whatever he needs.” She kindly requested the vampire blacksmith. She walked to the door and turned just after she opened it. “Oh, and Hector. Can I meet you in your new home by sunset?”

“Sure.” The human Forgemaster answered in almost a choke and Lenore smiled both seductively and triumphant. “Good boy.” She exited the room and Hector’s eyes shrunk at her last final words, making his blood boil up.

“One of these days you are going to explode .” The old vampire said in a cheerful snort, his head twitching afterward. Hector ignored his comment and looked at the man stoically. “It has been 200 years since I last saw a sorcerer of your kind. Did you know, you have to be human to be a Devils’ Forgemaster?”

“No, I didn’t.” Hector said quite surprised with the new piece of information.

“It’s because of your mortal life essence.” The vampire said while he walked into the confusing mess of his forge, signing Hector to follow him.

“How do you know that?”

“I once was a Devil’s Forgemaster.” The blacksmith casually told and Hector halted for a moment, shocked with the revelation. He hastily followed the vampire when he disappeared behind the mess of his iron collection. “When I was turned, I lost my ability to create life from death.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t. It was a sacrifice for immortality.” The man said while he turned to look at Hector and gave him a half toothless smile and a twitch with his head. His grin died soon after. “Only, the time has caught up with me. My bones are becoming old, each day they ache more.”

“Wait. Vampires age?”

“Yes, but very, very slowly. I was 52 years old when I was turned and now, I look like what? 80, 85 in human counting?”

“How old are you?”

“645 years old.”

“My God, you are a history living book! The things you must have seen.”

“Haha. Don’t get too excited, lad. My memory is not what it used to be…” The ancient blacksmith looked around, in search of something in the midst of the metallic chaos and his head twitched twice before he walked to his left. “Did you know you can channelize your energy to your hands and use it for other purposes, like attacking enemies?”

“No.” Hector said sincerely surprised, bending once in a while, so he wouldn’t bump his head against one of the many hanging items. “That would be handy.”

“Yes, it would, wouldn’t it?” The old man spoke in a dark tone and half-turned with a malicious grin on his face. Hector couldn’t help but think the vampire was a tad mad.

“Did you do that, attacking others with your magic when you were a Devil’s Forgemaster?”

“No. Unfortunately, I didn’t know that at the time.”

“Where did you acquire that knowledge, then?”

“I have some books about dark arts. One I know will interest you particularly.” The old blacksmith reached a shelve filled with iron chains and horseshoes; helmets, dried flowers, a skeleton of was seemed to be have been a bird, three human skulls, two with holes in them and one with a large iron nail bore between the eye sockets; and a few books under a thick layer of dust and spiderweb. He picked one large volume. “It’s a compilation made by all the Forgemasters writings that go centuries and centuries back in time.”

“A compilation? I didn’t know such work existed.”

“Nobody knows. It’s our secret now. Shhhh.” The old man whispered, placing his index in front of his lips and winked at the human. He then held the book before him and blew the dust from it, forming a large cloud of gray particles in the air. Both started coughing and sneezing compulsively. “I apologize for that.” The vampire mage said in a choke while he handled the manuscript to Hector, who was whipping some tears away with his sleeve. “Here. It’s for you.”

“I-I cannot accept it!” The man immediately refused.

“Take it. I can do nothing with it. It has been lying there for many, many years, waiting for a Devil’s Forgemaster’s arrival.” The old man insisted, shoving the book on the young man’s hands. Hector accepted it and opened the book, using one lap as support so he could turn the pages.

“Incredible. Where – how did you acquire such a book?”

“I purchased it in a shop from a shady collector in Armenia, who had gotten it from a thief that had stolen it from a traveling Belmont.”

“Thank you.”

“Make good use of it, lad.” He said in a knowing manner and then grinned, twitched his head once and widened his grin. “Now, tell me. How can I help you further?”

“I need to make a magical hammer.”

“Ah, I already suspected that was your trade instrument. You make you magic flow through the air, through sound. With the beating of metal against stone, you make a dead heartbeat again.” The old man dramatically said and Hector blinked twice. Yes, the old vampire definitely had a screw loose.

“Yes. That is – my method.”

“Let’s get to work then!” The vampire blacksmith said enthusiastically while he stretched his right arm in the air and gave a small jump, which he regretted right away, as all his old muscles and bones started complaining at the impact. “Ouch, ouch, ouch!”

“Are you okay?” Hector asked concerned, his hand resting on the old man’s shoulder.

“Never been better.” The old man said with a grin and a twitch.

…

After hours of hard work, of combining all the necessary elements, of melting them in bright yellow incandescent metal; Hector not only had his magical hammer ready, but it was also quite an improved version in comparison to the old one.

“A fine masterpiece.” The old vampire blacksmith complimented proudly.

“It’s true. Thank you so much for your help.” Hector sincerely expressed his gratitude and the old man got one of his rarest kind and most truthful of smiles. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“It was my pleasure to be able to help a colleague.” The vampire merrily spoke. Hector was still looking at his hammer, holding it with his two hands and the old man witnessed the human’s smile fade away. “There is still one crucial ingredient missing.” The blacksmith told knowingly, and Hector had to fight back a knot in his throat.

“You knew it all along.” It was more of an affirmation than a question. “Why?”

“During my lifetime, I’ve seen empires rise and empires fall. I have watched mankind and vampires destroy themselves for senseless ambition. It’s always the same story. Only the names change. I am tired of wars and do not have the energy for another one.”

“It’s not fair. I feel I finally made a friend in this horrid castle and now…” Hector trailed off, for he was in the brink of tears. The old man smiled gently at him and rested his old hand on the human’s arm.

“Lenore is a good girl. She’s the best of the four bitches ruling Styria. She can be arrogant, spoiled and a know-it-all, but her heart is in the right place.” The human nodded while he gave a soft sniff, two tears escaping his eyes. “Now, my boy. It’s time to conclude the making of your magical hammer.”

Hector wiped his face with the back of his hand and took a deep breath. He looked at the vampire blacksmith, who nodded in an encouraging manner. The old man smirked when he witnessed sadness be replaced by determination. Hector looked down at his ring. His eyes fixing on the red and black intertwined around his finger. He needed negative thoughts surrounding the object to invade his heart and darken it with hatred. He forced his memory to return to the moment Lenore told the Blacksmith magician had forged it. The vampire was responsible for the making of the object that stole his freedom and bounded him unwillingly to three women he loathed. He allowed his heart to be consumed by dark loathing and revengeful lust. He lifted his eyes and the blacksmith magician held his breath. Hector’s blue eyes were blackened and cold. His right hand held the head of the hammer, the left supported the iron rod, its pointy end aimed at the vampire. And then, swiftly, in a precise move, the rod pierced the vampire’s chest, spearing his heart.

Blue flames materialized around the hammer and the old blacksmith laughed heartily, witnessing the magic being activated. The blue flames surrounded the Devil’s Forgemaster, whose look was one of pure concentration. His eyes gained a bright blue and shone as the magic in his body was released and connected with the hammer. The vampire blacksmith laughed loudly, feeling honored to be the sacrifice to such a sacrilege ritual. Fire burst out of his body and yellow flames mingled with blue ones. The old vampire laughed loud, madly and ecstatic until red flames broke his tissue and cut his vocal cords, burning his flesh to the bone. Hector removed the magical hammer when the vampire was reduced to a burning skeleton. The blue flames disappeared, the blue light in his eyes faded. The yellow fire slowly extinguished, while bones were reduced to dust, until all that remained was a pile of ash next to a pair of metal legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, up to now, my favorite chapter.
> 
> I absolutely loved to write about the Blacksmith magician and give a little bit of a backstory. That is why I feel really bad he died in the end. It really sucks, but his death was necessary. I will elaborate a bit more about his sacrifice and the magic of Hector's hammer. HIs death was not in vain.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts in the comment section.  
> Thank you and till the next chapter!


	5. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> Writer: Darktragicangel
> 
> Beta: Shadowking514

“What is all this racket about?”

Carmilla mumbled irritated to herself, while she exited her bedroom. The queen of Styria rushed down the corridor, her red robe floating behind her. While crossing the castle, the vampire could see the world was becoming lighter behind the opaque windows. A new day was being born. She followed the trail of a noise carried by air and reached an important intersection which leads to several parts of the building. She entered one of the galleries and continued to follow the sound. Carmilla could now discern two angry voices that seemed to compete in volume. The corridor ended in an open hall and there, unsurprisingly, stood Morana and Striga. Apparently, and unlike her, they hadn’t prepared to retire to bed yet. “What the Hell is going on?”

“Trouble in paradise,” Morana said in a clearly worried tone. She gestured at the large double door that led to the covered wooden walkway Lenore had ordered to build recently. A soldier stood guarding it and bore an expression of utter discomfort and fear.

“Lenore and Hector have been fighting for a few minutes already,” Striga said, her tone too vocalizing concern. “This guard won’t allow up to pass. Says it’s Lenore’s orders.”

“Oh, for gods’ sake!” Carmilla complained exasperated. She walked to the soldier, whose white face became impossibly even paler. “You will step away from this door.”

“But Lady Lenore’s expressed order is…” The soldier spoke in a fast and nervous way, a sweat drop rolling down the side of his face.

“I am the Queen of Styria! You dare to defy me?”

Carmilla’s voice became a tone lower, close to a whisper, but it sounded mightier than any shout she could have given. Her cold blue eyes pierced the guard with her authoritative icy glare. The soldier swallowed dry and took two sidesteps, unblocking the entrance. Carmilla smiled victoriously. She pressed her hands against the wood and opened the twin doors. The sovereign walked through it, in a regal and powerful march. Morgana and Striga followed her suit. The three vampires rushed down the wooden walkway, seeing the house’s entrance door at the end of it. As the couple’s voices continued their relentless spat, the sisters all wondered what had happened.

_…_

_45 minutes earlier_

Lenore walked along a corridor in the castle’s side west wing, carrying a basket with three juicy apples and a bottle of old brandy she knew the Blacksmith magician highly appreciated. She hummed a small happy song, her soft voice bringing some joyful warmth to the cold damp stone walls. With a smile hanging on her lips, the vampire girl knocked on the door. As usual, there was no reply, so she invited herself in.

“Hello. It’s me, Lenore.” She called while she stepped in the chaotic world of iron and metal. “I brought you something. I want to thank you for helping Hector yesterday. He was very happy with the new hammer. And told me how helpful you were.” The redhead waited a moment for a response, but it never came. Her eyebrows pressed, as she thought it odd. The Blacksmith never left his forge. Or so it had been told to her. “Blacksmith?”

Lenore called out and ventured a bit further inside. She walked through the confusion of steel objects, looking around, calling out for the old man. Nothing. No answer. The redhead sighed perplexed while a timid bad feeling crept in. After scanning her surroundings one last time, she decided to leave. She accidentally bumped against a shield, while walking out of the chaos. The shield fell and dropped more objects along in the process. The vampire covered her ears with her hands at the loud crashing sound.

“Clumsy, clumsy.” Lenore murmured to herself, while she bent over to pick up the fallen objects.

It was when her hand reached a small hammer, that her eye caught something a bit further up. It looked unsuspicious, just a stain on the floor. Maybe it was because of Lenore’s curious nature, maybe it was a hidden intuition. For some reason, the vampire crouched, lowering herself, so she could see it better. It looked nothing more than an ordinary dirty spot. It was what she saw behind it that intrigued her. There were marks on the floor, indicating the table on top of the stain had been moved recently. Somehow, the bad feeling grew a bit stronger. Lenore stood up and shoved the table enough to reveal the full size of the stain.

Her heartbeat increased, as did her breathing. She was familiar with this kind of stains and knew the horrific story behind their existence. The redhead swallowed dry and crouched again. She touched the stained area with her index and turned it. Her skin was blackened by tiny gray particles made of burned ash. An indication of whatever burned here had happened very recently. The vampire stood up again. By now her heart was racing, beating hard and angry under her chest. She looked at the table, at the marks on the floor. Somebody had tried to conceal the stain. The bad feeling settled itself in the pit of her stomach. Somebody had tried to conceal a crime. Shock froze her body. Lenore gasped while she took a nervous step back. She wheezed for a few moments. Many questions filled her head, which was all answered with one word. One name.

Hector.

…

A sweet odor of jasmine and wine floated in the air and Hector knew Lenore was close. He hastily hid a book under his bed. It was the Devil’s Forgemasters compilation work the Blacksmith had given him the previous day. Hector had spent the whole night reading it and completely forgot the time. The man was absolutely fascinated by its secretive and occult contents. And since it was filled with all kinds of magical incantations; including those which could be used against enemies, just like the vampire mage had told; Hector was making sure Lenore would not learn about the book’s existence.

He hurried back to the living room and sat by the table, picking another book, one he knew Lenore would approve. It was one of the tomes he had borrowed from the library and explored the various facets of vampire culture. He opened it and turned to a chapter he was already familiar with so he could answer any question; should Lenore ask him about the subject. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, forcing his heartbeat to slow down. He rested his cheek against his palm and did his best to look as relaxed as possible. He had to look, act, and sound as less conspicuous as possible. The sound of footsteps reached his ears and Hector turned a page. He could see Lenore on his peripheral vision and thought it strange she didn’t greet him.

“Is it morning already?” He casually asked.

He looked up in the blinder’s direction and could not see any light passing from its slit. There was no answer, so Hector turned to look at Lenore, mystified by her silence. He was met with an expression of repressed fury. Pressed eyebrows, glowing crimson eyes, pretty lips tightly pressed together and drawn downwards. His eyes shifted from the redhead’s gaze to her hands. They were clenched in fists, her knuckles white from the pressure, her nails digging her skin. There was only one reason he could think of, for her to be angry with him. But if this was the case, how in the world did she discover?

“How could you?” Lenore asked in a choked voice. Lenore was silently fuming and the Forgemaster wondered if she was going to beat him like in their first meeting. Instantly nerves invaded his body, all his survival instincts screaming at him to run away. But where would he run to? She was too strong, too fast. So, instead, Hector ignored the threatening sight and turned back his attention to the book in front of him. He would not let her see he was intimidated.

“What are you talking about?” He quietly asked, feigning ignorance; while a voice in the back of his head scolded him, telling him he had just denounced himself by reacting too calmly.

“You killed the Blacksmith magician.” Lenore darkly announced and Hector could feel acid crawl up his chest and burn his throat. He had wiped the ashes away, camouflaged the stain, melted the iron legs. How did she find out? The man did not dare to look at the vampire. He swallowed dry, for his mouth had become a desert. He could as well just tell the truth.

“I had to. His death was necessary to conclude the hammer’s forging.” Hector spoke still in an extremely calm manner, while all his muscles around his belly contracted painfully from tension.

“What do you mean exactly by that?” Lenore questioned exasperated. She was shocked by how laid-back he had just sounded, talking about murder as if it was the most common thing in the world.

“The magic is only activated when the forged instrument is used as a murder weapon on somebody the Devil’s Forgemaster hates enough to wish their death.” He explained while he turned his head to finally meet her eyes.

“How could you hate such a kind, old man?”

“How could I not hate him? He forged the fucking rings, didn’t he?” His voice denounced for the first time his real feelings, stained from stifled revolt and from dread of what was coming next.

“Oh my God. You had this planned.” Lenore whispered breathlessly. Lenore was shocked by this new side of Hector. He had not revealed one ounce of is hatred towards the Blacksmith. “Yesterday, when you told me you needed to forge a new hammer - you said that because you knew I would take you to the Blacksmith. You went there already with the intent of killing him.” Lenore was shocked because Hector had concealed his feelings so well; she not once had suspected he meant to kill the old magician. He had planned the old man’s murder in an unsuspicious and calculating cold-blooded manner.

“Yes,” Hector admitted, his face and voice deprived of any shame or guilt.

“You used me to bring you to the Blacksmith!” Lenore shouted.

The fiery accusation stirred up something inside of Hector. _Is she really accusing me of using her?_ He thought while a dangerous heat reached his chest. _How dare she, after what she did to me?_ He took a deep shaky breath and forced himself to remain calm, to keep his head cool. Yet, it was hard when his mind was already being clouded by frustrated anger.

“You needed me to forge an army. I needed a new hammer so I can forge your very much wanted army. I did what needed to be done.” Hector explained to his defense, impatience reaching his tone. The girl gave him an incensed look, translating her utter disbelief. “Oh, don’t give me that look, Lenore. You would have done the same thing if you were in my place.”

His claim fell like a rock in a deep lake. A heavy silent tension settled itself between them. Lenore’s expression of incredulity was replaced by sheer anger, her eyes flashing in blood-red. Her face was a perfect image of accumulated tension. Hector felt his lungs fill themselves with air before he held his breath. The energy around them was extremely unnerving from all the stifled fury. The calm before the storm. “Look, it’s not like I took pleasure in it. I didn’t have a choice. If I didn't kill him, the hammer wouldn’t work.” Hector insisted in his nerve-racking calm voice. His face didn’t denounce a hint of the fear that was starting to overwhelm him.

“Could it not have been anybody else?” She asked in clenched teeth, biting back the urge of attacking the human before her and shred him into pieces.

“Well, there are your Council sisters. Carmilla would have been the ideal sacrifice, but as you know, the ring would have prevented it from happening.” Hector claimed in a cynical manner, while he lifted his left hand, exhibiting the black and red ring. Lenore glanced with crude bewilderment from the ring to the human.

“You make it all sound so legitimate, that you had no choice. Well, why didn’t you tell me, then? Why didn’t you inform me you needed to kill to make the hammer work? Why didn’t you tell me yesterday you murdered him?” Lenore shouted, her fangs growing longer as a reaction to her fury.

Hector felt his insides twist, his nerves hit the pit of his stomach. Her anger scared him terribly. One would expect fear to provoke paralysis or propel one to run away. But in Hector’s case, his survival instincts incited the defensive attack. He stood up, his height giving him the illusion of power, as it allowed him to look down at his predator.

“Obviously to avoid _this_!” Hector’s voice matched Lenore’s volume. “Did you expect me to tell you – _Lenore, my new hammer is ready. And by the way, I killed the Blacksmith, I hope you don’t mind_ – Because that would have worked so well!” He yelled in a scornful way.

“You bastard! You lied to me!” Lenore shouted angrily, while she took a defiant step closer, the difference in height not intimating her one bit.

“I withheld. I’m not like _you_! _You_ are the one who’s lying _all the time_!” Hector’s accused her in blind anger.

“Me? Lying all the time?” Lenore questioned offended by the accusation, her hand traveling to her chest.

“Yes. You and your fucking empty vows and promises!”

Hector’s mind was obscured by the thundering twisting of black clouds. His heart was devoured by the deafening noise of tall waves rolling and crashing destructively. For an entire week, he had behaved like the _good boy_ he was told to be. Swallowing every moment of humiliation, repressing every spiteful thought. For two long months, he had endured the torture of being beaten up and forced to walk endless miles barefoot. Forced to sleep naked in a cell, fed rotten food, bathed with icy water. To be later seduced and tricked by a pretty evil girl. All his life, he had been tormented with banishment, with insults, with abuses. He had been fooled, lied to, tricked and betrayed before, but never did it hurt as it did now. Fear triggered his anger, but it was hurt that made him shout mindlessly. “Equals, she said!” He shouted sarcastically and chuckled bitterly afterward. He looked down at Lenore and shook his head, while his face translated dismay and despise. “Put the damn ring on and it’s all instantly gone.”

“What the Hell are you talking about?” The redhead interrogated baffled.

“I’m talking about the moment you step into that fucking castle you act like a fucking princess brat parading with her newest toy!” Hector returned to his shouting tone, waving his arms in the air from agitation. “You’re like a fucking smug victorious master showing off their trophy pet to their fucking friends!”

“That is ridiculous! I don’t do such a thing.” Lenore exclaimed absolutely affronted.

“Really? _Good boy_ here _, good boy_ there.” Hector mimicked Lenore’s sweet derisive tone with perfection. “The demeaning tone you use when you talk to others about me, while I’m standing right behind you, like if I were invisible! The victorious superior looks you give me, every time I agree – no, every time I _obey_ you! You - are a fucking malicious person!”

“You will not speak like that to me!” Lenore scolded irate, while she pointed her index to Hector’s face.

“Or else? You will hit me? Beat me up? Kick the shit out of me?” He defiantly asked, locking his blackened eyes on Lenore’s. The girl furrowed her brows and pressed her lips in a tight line. It took all her self-control not to give him the slap he deserved. But she did nothing of the sort and instead, human and vampire engaged in a murderous glaring contest. Suddenly, Hector’s eyes grew wide as saucers. His eyebrows pressed, making him look genuinely disturbed. He rushed past Lenore and quickly headed towards the main door.

“Where do you think you are going to?” The redhead questioned in disbelief.

Lenore followed him irate, believing he intended to exit the house and leave the fight unfinished. She had just caught him and was about to step in front of him when he suddenly turned around and shoved her hard. He pushed her with such a force, she ungraciously fell with her butt on the floor. Lenore stared at the man stunned, her eyes wide, her mouth agape, not believing what had just happened. Hector wasn’t even looking at her. He was for some unknown reason fussing with the window’s blind. The redhead now thought he wanted to combust her with sunlight. She quickly stood up and made a small run to him.

The events that followed afterward, happened so quickly, it was as if time suddenly slowed down until it stopped completely, freezing the world in one pivotal second.

Lenore had just reached Hector, her hand already touching his shoulder, her fingers clawing a grip; when his right arm hit her chest hard the instant a wall of yellow light appeared in front of her. Her eyes widened as her skin sensed the dangerous heat, but Hector’s right arm; which had blocked her to safety; pushed her back away from the light.

In that flick of a second, when the sunburst in the hall’s entrance, Lenore’s eyes perceived a pale-skinned woman being pulled back, her clear blue eyes widened in dreadful surprise, her red lips slightly open from the gasp of shock escaping her mouth. Carmilla almost been touched by the sunlight by mere inches, had Striga not had the quick reaction of pulling the queen into the shadows.

Time froze and the world stood still the moment afterward. Hector and Carmilla stood opposite to each other, face to face, only separated by a barrier of sunlight. They glared at each other in silent mutual hatred. Lenore stood a bit behind Hector staring dumbfound at her three Council sisters. Striga stood behind Carmilla, her face only expressing disciplined stoicism, her hand still resting on the queen’s shoulder. Morana stood next to Striga, her eyes widened, her hand covering her mouth.

The silence had become a hardening sound, it's rumbling producing the unbearable noise of a world quietly crumbling down in an invisible earthquake.

Hector was the first to break the silence.

“What are _they_ doing here?”

As if his voice had broken a strange spell, time woke up and seemed to want to catch up, ticking so suddenly that everything moved too fast, everything sounded too loud. Chaos invaded the world, spreading confusion and noise.

While Hector’s eyes refused to leave Carmilla’s icy glare, his question had been directed to Lenore, who opened and closed her mouth in bewilderment. Striga then guided Carmilla to recede a bit more, so she could stand in front of the Forgemaster. The man lifted his head to look up at the tall sturdy woman. Striga studied his face, focusing on his eyes. The man’s unusually bright blue eyes were darkened by the expansion of his pupils. They shone from emotion, while his face was cold. His look screamed silent menace.

“How did he know we were here?” Carmilla asked completely confused.

“I don’t know.” Lenore’s weak voice answered Hector.

“You told me they wouldn’t be allowed here.” The Forgemaster spoke to Lenore, his eyes never leaving Striga’s.

“He can smell us,” Morana told Carmilla, who turned to face her, an eyebrow lifted in skepticism. “It’s a sorcerer’s thing.” The dark-skinned vampire said while she shrugged her shoulders once.

“Is this _too_ a lie of yours?” Hector asked bewildered, finally turning to face Lenore.

“N-No. I gave strict orders to the soldiers not to let anyone in except for you and me.”

“And yet, here they are!”

“Calm down, Hector. I told the guard to let us in.” Carmilla spoke in her typical smooth voice, looking at her long claw-like nails before glancing at Hector. “I am, after all, the queen of Styria.”

“I want them out of here,” Hector demanded to Lenore, ignoring Carmilla.

“We were worried about you, Lenore.” Striga came in between.

“As you can see, she is perfectly fine.” Hector spat the same time Lenore claimed -

“I can take care of myself!”

“Well, excuse us for being concerned,” Carmilla spoke a bit offended. “You two were so loud, the whole castle could hear your shouting.”

“Get out,” Hector spoke in a dark soft tone, his eyes back on Carmilla’s. The female smirked amused at his irate look.

“Is there anything we can help you with?” Morana asked Lenore.

“No, there is nothing you can help. This is between Hector and me.” The redhead replied annoyed.

“I said, get out,” Hector repeated low, in clenched teeth, and felt his blood boil under his skin from the malicious arrogant grin the sovereign was giving him.

“Please, leave. I am fine.” Lenore pled her sisters and Carmilla’s nose wrinkled at the request. She opened her mouth, about to protest, when Hector finally lost his patience.

“Get out! Out!!!” The Forgemaster yelled furious, his face contorted by sheer rage.

“Really, Lenore. Learn to control your pet.” The queen of Styria said while giving a look of disgust at Hector, his face the perfect translation of rage. She made eye contact with the redhead and resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the begging look the girl was giving her. For this time, and for the love, she had for the youngest vampire; Carmilla would swallow her pride. “Come, let us leave this place. We are clearly not welcomed.”

“We apologize for disturbing you.” Morana excused and bowed her head slightly in respect to Lenore and afterward to Hector, before following the snow-white haired vampire.

Striga remained only three seconds longer, her eyes still on the Forgemaster. She too greeted them with a nod and was the last to follow the queen of Styria. Minutes followed in which both human and vampire were quiet, listening to the sound of voices and footsteps gradually fading away in the distance. Then, absolute silence. After a few moments of hesitation, Hector reached for the window’s blind and shut it close. The hall’s entrance was covered in shadows once again. And so was Hector’s heart. All the accumulated tension was released and gone. The uninvited interruption had somehow put out the fire of fury and all that was left now were the ashes of hurt. The Forgemaster sighed heavily, the mist of anger dissipating under the cover of a blanket of sadness. Hector turned around; his shoulders slightly slumped. He turned around to face Lenore, looking completely exhausted.

“I don’t know what to believe from you.” Hector’s voice came out cracked and hoarse. It sounded horribly broken by hurt. “I want to believe you. I want to trust you but… The ring…” He had to stop, feeling a lump swell his throat, stealing his voice, strangling him with sorrow.

“Hector…” The redhead vampire called out, shocked with how fragile he, all at the sudden, sounded. The man standing in front of her looked nothing like the one who had been shouting infuriated just minutes earlier. She raised her hand to touch him, but he budged, preventing it from happening. The girl’s hand fell to the side numbly.

“When you used to come to see me in my cell – I counted the seconds between each visit. Because when you came, you brought with you some light to my misery. You were like spring, bringing color and laughter and joy into that barren dungeon. Your visits gave me enough hope to hold on for a day. Just another day. So, I could see you again. So, I could hear you one more time.”

Hector choked. His eyes watered, but he stubbornly fought the tears back. Not once did he look at the vampire, for he knew, if he did, he would break down. Lenore stared at him with wide glinting eyes, her heart heavy. Each word he spoke was so burdened by pain, it hurt from only listening to him. “That’s why when you –“ He raised his left hand, showing the ring, his fingers shaking from raw emotion. Lenore’s lips trembled, not needing to hear the rest of the unfinished sentence to understand what he meant. “This ring – it’s a reminder of that moment I pledged my loyalty to you, while you imprisoned me with a spell. Every time I look at it, it reminds me of that moment and I – and I… am just scared this is all a game to you and - you’ll hurt me again.”

The final words came out in a feeble whisper. Hector felt suddenly completely exposed, defenseless, naked in his helplessness. He felt weak like a little wounded bird at the mercy of a powerful cruel cat. He wanted to hide away in a dark hole. He needed to hide, to bury himself in a refuge. So, he kept his eyes closed, bent his head down, and hid his face behind silver locks.

“Hector, I’m sorry. Please, look at me, Hector. Please.” The girl vampire softly begged. Her hand touched his arm, but Hector flinched, and Lenore instinctively withdrew her hand. His shoulders hunched forwards, his body closing itself, like if Hector was trying to recoil inside a shell. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Hector, please, tell me what to do to make things right.”

“I honestly, don’t know - I don’t know if you can make things right,” Hector whispered after he shook his head, his eyes closed the whole time. He wrapped his arms around himself, like if he was shielding pain away.

“There must be something I can do.” The vampire told hopeful and a shaky breath escaped Hector’s throat.

“Please leave.” He whispered in a thin voice.

“What?”

“I want to be alone. Please.”

Lenore pressed her lips tight and swallowed a sob, while two thick lonely tears rolled down her cheeks. She nodded, although she knew he couldn’t see since he refused to open his eyes and look at her.

“Okay.” She whispered gently.

She walked past Hector and headed straight to the door. A few times she almost hesitated and wished nothing but to run back to that broken pretty human man. To put her arms around him, enveloping him with warmth, with love, with comfort. But Hector had asked her to leave and she would respect him. Thus, the redhead forced herself to continue her constant pace.

She opened the door and, without looking back, stepped outside and gently shut it closed. She remained a few seconds holding the door handle, her forehead pressed against the wood. Her ears picked up the sound of fabric slowly brushing down against a wall, of a weight landing softly on the ground, of a suffocated whimper followed by uncontrolled sobs unsuccessfully muffed by a hand. Unable to take it any longer, Lenore released herself from the door, turned away, and ran down the wooden walkway while hot tears were carried by the wind behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was pretty hard to write...
> 
> So, share your thoughts with me?


	6. Painting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> Writer: Draktragicangel
> 
> Beta: Shadowking514
> 
> Over the 100 kuddos! Thank you so much for all the love.  
> Also a big hug to everybody that left a comment. Your reactions and opinions make it such good fun to write and want to keep writting more and better!

Lenore ran to her chambers in a race against her own emotions. She stormed into her bedroom, threw herself on the bed, buried her face on the pillow, and cried. Never had she felt such hurt for hurting someone else. When Hector’s flames of fury died out completely, all that had been left was the broken shell of a man that had suffered more than the young years he had. The protective barrier he had carefully built around his heart crumbled completely revealing the boy in his entire vulnerability. The exhaustion of dragging pain for too long made him look older and defeated. The fragility of fearing not to survive another emotional blow made him look younger and scared. It was not the words he spoke or their meaning, but the weight of the hurt each syllable carried that stung Lenore’s heart. His voice, his beautiful deep voice of fortitude, had sounded as cracked as his broken heart. And it was all because of her.

The crying fit slowly diminished and the vampire rolled over on her bed, so she laid on her back, facing the ceiling. She took a few shaky breaths, cleaned her eyes, and felt relieved after emptying her aching heart. She became deadly silent, while the thoughts inside her head never had been so loud and so noisy. It had been her. She hurt Hector. The worst part was, she never intended to hurt him. She never realized she hurt him.

She never cared to listen to him.

A trembling hand traveled to her mouth. She felt sick. She finally understood. Hector had told, shouted, screamed the words but now; only now, did she truly understand their meaning. She betrayed Hector. She finally realized the gravity of her actions and the emotional damage she caused. Lenore was lost. Lost for not knowing what to do next. Lost for not being able to understand why she was suffering so much when it was she who hurt Hector in the first place. It was not only guilt and regret. It went way deeper than that. It was an unsettling feeling that invaded her heart, haunted her mind, and settled in the pit of her stomach. It was heartbreak for breaking somebody else’s heart.

When she had told Carmilla she wanted to “fix” Hector, she had had one purpose alone. Make sure he would forge them a loyal army. Her strategy was to use diplomacy to trade an army in exchange for the Forgemaster's safety. Lenore had thought it to be an unremarkable task. Lenore had miscalculated. It happened when she visited him again and again. He talked to her and tried to attack her. He talked to her and chuckled bitterly. He talked to her and thanked her for the new clothing. He talked to her and smiled sincerely. He talked to her and his eyes rested on hers with the sweetest and the most tender look anybody had ever given her. Lenore miscalculated because she never included one variable to her plan that could shake things to her downfall. She never counted she would come to care for him.

The vampire girl cursed herself for mixing emotions with diplomacy. Where her diplomatic results had been successful, and she got exactly what she wanted – the loyalty of the Forgemaster to her sisters and the improvement of his life conditions – she had failed greatly in the romantic field. Lenore was the diplomat and she thought she could resolve everything with diplomacy, with finding agreements, with making compromises. But the matters of the heart couldn’t be fixed with diplomacy. Emotions couldn’t be handled like trade, because when it’s about feelings, there are no rules. Emotions were the opposite of structure, stability, and permanence. They were complex, variable, and always changing. It took a long way and a lot of work to gain someone’s trust, but it could be broken and completely ruined in a flash. She had earned enough trust from Hector for him to give himself willingly to her. She broke this trust the moment she tricked him into imprisoning him to a deal he did not wish for. How could he not feel betrayed, hurt, heartbroken?

Like all vampires, as her life was extended, Lenore’s behavior, her attitudes, her perception of the world altered with the passing of years. This was the privilege of the vampire condition. Because of their immortality, things that were once fleeting became permanent and secured. The privilege of their condition made vampires forget to value things that were once important and instead take them for granted and changed their morality.

Because of her position of power, Lenore was used to getting what she wanted. She was spoiled. She wanted Hector to be hers, unlike anybody she ever wanted. Because of her position of power, the redhead was used to be given reason. She thought she was always right and never questioned her actions or her values. She wanted Hector and she made him her own, regardless of his wishes and opinions. It was the leftovers of what survived from her humanity that made her want the man to have rights and comfort. The vampire wanted to see her human man smile, wanted to hear him chuckle, she wanted him to be happy. And though she could give happiness easily. Lenore understood now how wrong she had been.

The redhead knew she was lucky Hector had been forgiving and accepted his destiny, even if it had been reluctantly, seeing how other options were even worse. Nevertheless, she could tell he liked her back. He had been honest with his feelings from the beginning and his behavior reflected all of that. But she did not. Her actions and behavior towards him had not made justice to her words. How much was a promise worth if it wasn’t kept? It was no wonder Hector exploded. There was no question he was hurt. She was giving him more reasons to feel miserable than when he was naked and hungry in his cell. Because the emotional pain was always worse than the physical one.

Lenore had bored a hole in Hector’s heart.

Hours ticked slowly by and Lenore could not sleep nor rest. The redheaded vampire was scared. She had put herself in a sticky situation and feared, this time, diplomacy wouldn’t be enough to solve her problems. To satisfy the Council of Sisterhood she had to betray Hector. To make Hector truly happy again, she would have to betray her sisters. One way or another, she would always have to make a choice, and whatever choice she would make, she would always lose. Lenore had to find a way of giving Hector what he needed without having to betray her Council. The diplomat wasn’t sure that was even possible.

…

Hector walked down the wooden walkway while he rubbed the back of his sore neck. His first night at the forge had been very productive. The new hammer was a real improvement compared to the old one. It channelized the energy much better, allowing it to flow itself easier and faster into the corpses. He, therefore, forged more night creatures than usual, but also because he had a renewed vitality. Hector only realized how badly he missed his work after the forged the first demon. Watching a corpse gain new life and transform itself into a night creature, absolutely thrilled him and gave him a sense of accomplishment. Also, it helped to keep his mind busy. Because he was continuously plagued with thoughts about Lenore.

He regretted the way he handled things yesterday. He wished he had kept his calm instead of blowing up the way he did. How was the girl supposed to listen and understand his position if he shouted accusations at her? The worse part was, the redhead was a vampire and one of Styria’s rulers. She had power in all senses of the word. A woman like her did not have to accept the protests, revolt, anger from a human; a creature considered far more inferior to her species. If Lenore wanted, she could strip him away from all his rights and punish him for his behavior. Part of him wanted to believe she would never do such a thing to him; he wanted to believe she truly cared about him. But his rational side expected the worst. After all, this was how his life had always been.

The Forgemaster was immersed in these worrisome thoughts when the scent of jasmine reached his nose and he stopped on his tracks. He froze while his heart raced in a frenzy. Sitting in front of his door, was Lenore with her wicker basket. She stood up when she saw him and Hector could read the mix of anxiety and hope on her pretty face.

“Good morning, Hector.” She greeted kindly with a soft smile.

“Good morning, Lenore.” He greeted back, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. His face was so tense, he was unable to retribute her a smile.

“I brought you some food. Figured you would be hungry after a long night of hard work.” The redhead told while she lifted the basket a bit.

“Thank you.”

“And I hoped we could talk.”

“I’m really tired.” Hector said with a sigh, while his hand traveled again distractedly to the back of his neck.

“Of course.” Lenore said with a clearly disappointed tone, her gentle smile not matching the sad look in her eyes. She handed over the basket while forcing a merry smile. She flexed her knees in a small curtsy and prepared to leave. The girl halted surprised when strong fingers wrapped themselves around her small wrist. Lenore lifted her head to look at Hector, feeling confused. “You said you were tired.”

“I am.” He told without looking at her, while he released her. “But I know I won’t be able to sleep if we don’t talk.”

The vampire smiled hopeful and held her breath while he opened the door. His eyes finally met hers and he offered a small smile while he signed her to enter. Lenore’s hands clasped together and traveled to her chest, for her heart was bouncing madly under her skin. She hadn’t felt this nervous for a very long time. They walked into the living room.

“I’m just taking a quick bath, get this stench of death off me.” Hector said while he placed the basket on the kitchen’s counter.

“I will set the table, then. Is it okay if I join you for dinner?” Lenore asked politely.

“Of course it’s okay.” Hector said in a reassuring smile before he left the room.

Lenore released a small breath of relief after the man exited the division. She was glad he was back to his old self and, apparently, held no grudge against her. He did look visibly tired. The redhead was guessing he had slept as much as she did, and that was as good as nothing. Her ears picked the sound of running water and she turned to the kitchen’s cupboards. In just a few minutes the table was set. She added a small vase with flowers she gathered from the castle’s garden and smiled at the white snowdrops, her favorite spring flowers. Hopefully, they would cheer up the mood a bit. The vampire girl then rubbed her hands, not really knowing what to do while waiting, finding the quietness suddenly suffocating. She looked around and her eyes fell on an open book on the corner desk. She walked to it and saw it was one of the volumes Hector had taken from the library. The redhead turned a few pages back and skimmed through some paragraphs. Her breath got stuck in her throat. She had the feeling Hector was going to confront her again. She wouldn’t blame him if he did.

“Ah, that’s much better.” Hector said while he entered the dining room, combing his wet hair with his fingers.

Lenore turned around too quickly and gave a sheepish smile. The Forgemaster stared at her for a moment and almost rolled his eyes when he understood what she had been prying while he was away. He wasn’t in the mood for another argument, so he let her little crime pass for this once. They would need to discuss _that_ too, but he simply did not have the energy for another conflict right now. His eyes shifted to the table and smiled at the sight of the white flowers. After a hesitant awkward pause, both sat down to dine.

They ate silently, their eyes on their plates. Once in a while, Lenore would glance tentatively in Hector’s direction. Whether he sensed her gaze or was doing the same thing, the instant the redhead noticed he was lifting his eyes, she would nervously redirect her gaze back to her food. She wondered if she was fast enough, or if the man could notice her avoiding eye contact. The memories of the fight were still fresh in their minds. Their heated words, shouting and accusations still echoed distantly in the air. The tension was so horribly thick, none dared to speak, too scared to stir the quietness and unleash a tumult. And so, roasted chicken with potatoes and vegetables quickly disappeared from their plates.

“God, that was delicious.” Hector said when he finished his meal, his words having the right amount of sincerity and gratitude in them to lift the heavy air between them. The vampire suppressed a sigh of relieve.

“You were quite hungry.” Lenore commented pleased. She poured more wine in their glasses, sensing they were both needing it.

“Yes. Was starving.”

“Then, you still have room for dessert.” The vampire told lighthearted, perhaps a little too excited. The vampire girl rushed to the kitchen, feeling too fidgety to sit quietly and have nothing to do with her hands. She came back with two slices of lemon cake and a few blackberries.

“I meant to you ask you before…” Hector said while he held his last dark blue fruit between his index and thumb. “…where do you get berries at the end of March, when it’s a summer fruit?”

“We have glass greenhouses in the castle. We use the warm pipes to adapt the temperature for vegetables and fruits, so we can produce them all year long.”

“That’s incredible.”

“I could take you to the greenhouses, one of these days if you would like.” Lenore invited with a hopeful tone.

“Yes, I would like that.” The man calmly said, while he stood up and took the empty plates from the table. Lenore followed him to the kitchen, holding the wine glasses, glad he was so mellow. The Forgemaster noticed something was still lying in the basket, while he placed the plates on the sink. “What do we have here?”

“Oh, that’s old Brandy. It was meant for the Blacksmith.” The vampire girl told, while Hector picked the bottle up and examined the golden honeyed liquid’s color. “I was going to return it to the cellars.” She added a bit upset when he pulled out the cork and sniffed the bottle’s rim.

“Urg, that is some powerful stuff.” He commented while he wrinkled his nose in disapproval. He put the cork back on the bottle. “That drink can kill the living and resurrect the dead.”

“The Blacksmith was the only one in the castle whoever drank that brandy. Everybody else thought it was disgusting.”

“Poor fellow, probably drank it to forget his miseries.” Hector said sorrowfully while he placed the bottle back on the wicker basket.

“What makes you think that?” Lenore questioned mystified. As far as she knew, the Blacksmith was always in a cheerful mood. Hector turned to face Lenore, while he leaned against the counter.

“Did you know he was a Devil’s Forgemaster before he turned?” He asked and Lenore’s eyes widened a bit in surprise. She shook her head. “He lost his powers when he became a vampire,” Hector told and looked down at his feet a bit thoughtful. “It must have been horrible. Magic is a piece of yourself, part of your identity. It defines the sorcerer and differentiates them from other people, from other magicians. Losing his forging powers, must have been like losing a limb; perhaps even worse.”

“But he was always so merry.”

“Probably just a façade. He was deprived of his full powers during his vampire existence. It must have been like living a half-life.” The Forgemaster speculated. He looked at the redhead. “He knew, Lenore. Why I was there, what my intentions were. And he offered his life. Willingly. It felt more like an assisted suicide than murder.”

“I wish you had told me that before.” The vampire girl said.

“I was counting with you getting angry and was, honestly, afraid of a conflict.”

“I must admit, you hid your crime quite well. I discovered by accident. Still, surely you knew I would figure it out sooner or later. I mean, the man did disappear.”

“Yeah, I admit it wasn’t one of my smartest moves. I guess I had the small hope you would never find out, which is, of course, stupid.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. Everybody makes mistakes.” Lenore said and she fidgeted her hands nervously. “I mean, look at me.” She said in an edgy chuckle. “I told I liked you and betrayed you right afterward.” She admitted ashamed and didn’t dare to look at Hector. Instead, her eyes were focused on the point of her shoes. “It was wrong. In all the possible ways. It took me a while to understand - I don’t know, maybe I was being selfish or maybe I was blinded by my diplomatic triumph and wouldn’t see it but…” She finally lifted her eyes to look at the man and she met his expectant gaze. “…now I do understand and I am troubled because it’s something I cannot undo. I want to make up for it, but how do you fix something like this? I cannot expect you to forgive me or trust me again, can I?”

“I – At the moment… No.” Hector honestly said and read the hopelessness in Lenore’s red gaze, making him feel guilty. “I don’t know. Maybe - one day…I don’t know. I will never forget, anyway.” He awkwardly said, realizing there was nothing comforting in his words. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Hector.” The vampire girl said while she moved to hold his hands in hers and locked her gaze on his. “I am the one to apologize. I am sorry. I really am. What I did has no excuse. You are entitled to be mad at me.” Her eyes were intense, like if she wanted to pierce his, so she could travel to his soul and place there the meaning of her words. “All I can hope for is that you, maybe one day; can find in your heart some forgiveness for my behavior, not only in that night in your cell but also for the past week.”

There was a pause.

Hector did not know what to say, because he could not tell what she wanted to hear. He studied her face, her eyes, and; for the first time, they seemed to glint in sadness instead of happiness. Her face was tense and gloomy. The Forgemaster wondered if it was real this time. If it was sincere. It looked sincere. Felt sincere. But, with Lenore, he was never sure. The only thing he was sure, was that he did not like to see that expression of sadness on her pretty face. Lenore was always smiling, joyful, and spirited. Sadness did not suit her.

Lenore remained quiet, not knowing what else to say. What other words could she use, what more could she say to convince him she was telling the truth? Her heart was invaded with sorrow for witnessing in his gaze the wariness she created. She studied his face, his eyes; and could almost hear his thoughts processing in his mind, could almost listen to his internal conflict between wanting to believe her and being afraid to believe her. It was not fair he would have to live with this uncertainty. She wanted to prove he could deposit his trust in her but did not know how, and instead stared lost at him.

They remained like this for a while. In this quietness, like a painting that held this moment in time forever. Hector and Lenore stood in front of each other. They stood very close, yet it felt like there was a great abyss separating them. Their hands were joined, the only physical thing connecting them in this emotional cliff. Lenore involuntarily pressed her hands tightly against Hector’s numb ones, like if she was holding on to a rope while dangling at the top of an endless precipice. Her red orbs shone brightly, tears in the corner of her eyes, staring at the man with fear he would let her go. Would drop the rope and would let her fall.

Hector’s mind went a thousand miles an hour. Suppose Lenore was truly sincere with her apology. Would she allow him to escape this time? Should she allow him to run away, how long would he survive? And what would happen to her? It would be a direct betrayal to her sisters. To the Council. With no doubt, she would have to face the consequences. With no doubt, she would be punished. What would Carmilla and the others do to her? Hector’s insides turned at the idea Lenore would be tortured while he would be free. He could never live with himself knowing that. There was the possibility of Lenore escaping with him. But would she want to escape with him? And then, what? Where would they go? An ostracized human and a vampire could never belong anywhere in human society. Did he even want to return to human society? He never belonged there. And then the realization hit him. He never belonged anywhere. He was always alone. He had been all his life.

Until now.

He intertwined his fingers around hers. Lenore gasped a shaky breath while two perfectly round drops sprang from her eyes.

He never belonged anywhere because nobody ever wanted him.

The rope was pulled up, slowly, inch by inch.

Nobody ever wanted him until now.

She reached the top, her feet touched solid ground, she was safe from the precipice.

Because Lenore wanted him.

Strong arms pulled her up in an embrace and Lenore dug her face on his warm chest, listening to the veins being pumped by a strong heartbeat, breathing along when lungs filled and emptied themselves, making his chest rise and fall. She breathed his scent, a mix of soap, sunshine, and mortality.

They held each other in a tight embrace. Their fingers digging the material so hard, they could feel the skin under it, the muscles under the skin and the bones under the muscles. They held each other tightly, saving the other and needing to be saved. The feeling from desperate relief, from bittersweet reconciliation; produced an exhilarating sentiment that filled their souls with both joy and fear. Joy of having, fear of losing. Never had either of them experienced something like this before. Never had either of them felt this kind of connection with another person. It was as thrilling as it was frightening. Lenore crumbled between sobs and laughter, while Hector combed her long hair with his fingers, cradling her in their embrace, kissing her head with tenderness. No more words were needed to express regret and forgiveness, to express gratitude, to express affection.

Time could have stopped at that moment. A painting perpetuating into eternity that decisive moment when two lovers held each other close. When two hearts beat together. When the first seed to a magnificent sentiment was planted.


	7. Good Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> Writer: Darktragicangel
> 
> Beta: Shadowking514
> 
> For those following my other Castlevania fic «Somewhere Between», good news, I've posted a new chapter, so you can check it out. Also the reason it took me a little longer finishing today's chapter.
> 
> Enjoy the reading!

Lenore woke up sluggishly. Still too drowsy to open her eyes, she smiled at the rhythmic heartbeat under her ear. Her skin was picking the pleasant body heat from under her and a scent that reminded of summer. Something shifted next to her, so she instinctively opened her eyes and lifted her head to look at her side. Hector, who was lying under her, had his arm lifted upwards and was flexing his fingers.

“Dormant arm.” He said with sleepy eyes and a husky voice. “Did I wake you?”

“I was already waking up.” She said before pecking his lips once and laid her head down on his chest again. “Did you sleep well?”

“I haven’t slept this well for a long while. I think I really rested.”

Lenore smiled at his answer and closed her eyes again. Shortly after, his arm laid on her back and his fingers combed his hair lazily. After their long embrace, Hector had complained about feeling dizzy. The vampire had told him to lay on the couch while she made some tea for him. When she returned, he was already fast asleep. The man had been completely taken over by exhaustion. When she laid on top of him, Lenore had meant to stay for only a short while. She remembered thinking she would close her eyes only for five minutes. The vampire girl thought it amusing, she would wake up hours later, after having the best nap in ages. An angry grumbling noise under her brought the vampire back to the present. Her eyes widened and instantly an amused grin reached her lips. She looked down at Hector and he chuckled embarrassedly.

“Sorry.” He sheepishly said and Lenore giggled at a second grumble.

“I’m making you breakfast or that stomach of yours will be complaining the rest of the day.”

Hector watched Lenore stand up, straighten her slightly smashed dress and walk to the kitchen. He sat up and listened to her soft humming, to the sound of wooden doors and drawers being opened and closed, of porcelain clinking. He couldn’t help but be admired by how astonished he still could be with this kind of banal moments. How could something so ordinary as a girl preparing him breakfast still feel so strange and unfamiliar to him? How could it give him such a sense of warmth, security, and joy? He had spent so many years living alone, had grown so used to do everything by himself; that sharing this kind of small daily rituals with Lenore felt important and precious. The vampire would never guess what was taken as granted and considered trivial in the eyes of the rest of the world; was highly treasured by Hector.

“Need any help?” He asked while he entered the kitchen.

“Yeah, take these to the dining room, please.” Lenore handled him two empty plates and a third with bread, butter, and cheese. “Sounds like it’s raining.”

“Will be another day spent indoors.” The Forgemaster said after setting the table and sitting down.

“What are you planning to do the rest of the day?” The vampire asked while she poured tea in the teacups.

“Was thinking in having a quiet afternoon, read a bit.” He said while he spread butter on his bread.

“Is it good reading?” The redhead asked in a casual manner, but Hector understood what Lenore truly meant.

He took a bite of the bread and chew it tastelessly. He put the rest of the bread back on the plate. Bile had reached his tongue. He pondered for a few seconds what to say next. This was something he needed to discuss with Lenore, but he was not in the mood for another fight. Hector was torn between his natural instinct of avoiding conflicts and the urgency of needing clarification. Going against his old habits, he chose the latter.

“Yes. Chapter six is particularly interesting.” He said deadpan and Lenore took a bite of her bread with a mischievous glint in her smiling eyes.

“Really? Have you discovered something new?”

“It was more of a confirmation.” He said with a serious expression, while he crossed his arms and pressed his back firmly against the chair. He didn’t miss the playfulness in the vampire’s eyes and felt his insides burn from frustration. “I mean, I suspected. You did put it on the left ring finger, after all.”

He said while he lifted his hand. He looked at his ring stupidly for two seconds, only then realizing they had not taken the rings off. He quickly dismissed the slip. They both had fallen asleep from exhaustion, so there was no reason to feed his irritation. “But then I thought, maybe it was the way the cursed magic worked, the ring finger symbolizing loyalty. Until I noticed, in the Council meeting, your sisters all wore the dreadful thing on other fingers. That’s when I decided to investigate the matter.”

“Took you some time.” Lenore said amused, while she rested her elbow on the table, so her palm could support her chin. She did not miss the way his eyes shrunk at her comment.

“Well, I would expect you to inform me about something like this. Obviously, I was wrong.” Hector’s voice denounced his discontentment.

“What did you want? Me to propose to you? What if you would refuse? It would have been quite embarrassing for me.” She said in a joking manner, hiding her nerves. Hector’s pupils were already expanding, and the vampire expected him to blow up any second now.

“You find this funny?” Hector questioned in a repressed calm manner, but with enough harshness in his tone to transpire, he was angry. “This is serious, Lenore!”

“Are you angry at me?”

“Yes, Lenore. I am angry at you.” Hector claimed irritated in a _is-it-not-obvious?_ manner. “You are unbelievable, you know? For a diplomat that claims to say the truth all the time, you do possess a whole arsenal of ways to fool somebody! You used my ignorance in vampire customs to trick me again!”

He raised his voice at the last part and Lenore swallowed hard. Hector had all the reasons to be mad at her, but she never expected him to actually protest, even less, to stand up against her. The vampire girl was starting to realize, she had completely misjudged his character. After her first visit to his cell, Lenore was convinced she had put him in his place; because, since then, he was always quiet and docile, revealing a collaborative and compliant behavior. Turns out, Hector was quite the opposite. Just like two days ago day, in front of her sat an adamant and fiery man.

Lenore was now trying to understand if Hector had pretended to be submissive to give the illusion he was harmless, so he could counterattack at the first opportunity; or if he was acting like this as a result of accumulated frustrations. Triggered, as the Blacksmith magician had wisely said. “It all makes sense, now!” Hector continued in his irritated tone. “You had me confused for a whole week, you know? I could not understand you. You said one thing, you did something entirely different. You said you liked me and then you put a cursed ring on me. To your sisters you called it a _slave ring_ , to me you said I was your pet. Then you pledged to me, told we were equals but then treated me like a tamed animal outside our residences.”

Hector paused and gave both an accusing and pained look at Lenore. “But all became clear yesterday after I read chapter fucking six! I did not know vampire’s marriage was an intimate ritual that happens in private, with no witnesses, where both parties pledge their loyalties to each other _._ ” He told exasperated. “You have been acting like a sweet wife here at home, while you display your power over me in the castle as my mistress. Am I right to guess nobody else knows about your pledges?”

“Yes.” The redhead admitted guiltily, while she bit her underlip. An unnerving heavy silence settled between the two. The Forgemaster stared at the vampire, while he shook his head in disbelief.

“You didn’t have the right.” He said with a choked voice and Lenore could actually hear the bubbling of anger boiling inside of him. “It was already bad enough you had me tricked when I pledged to you, but completing the marriage ritual without letting me know; without me having any idea of what was fucking going on… You don’t have the right to make this kind of decision, to make decisions for me, to decide my life, too… Fuck, Lenore. This is a forced marriage!” Hector spat the crude truth with so much bitterness, Lenore wondered if it would ever be possible to mend things between them. They had just made up and were fighting again. Unfortunately, she was, once again, guilty for the man’s ire. “I don’t know if you were abused by men as a human and are now taking it all out on me; or if you were born an aristocrat and are just a spoiled girl that likes to play mind games with people; whatever disturbing reasons you may have, this is simply wrong!”

Hector shouted incensed, while he hit the table with his palm once, hard enough to make the porcelain cups jump on their little plates. Lenore flinched. His fire was so high, his bitterness so acid, Lenore did not even have the chance to come between his wording. “What on Earth possessed you into…Why would you want – would even consider marrying me? Wasn’t it enough I was your pet? You just had to bound me completely to you, didn’t you? Why?”

_Why_

The question was dropped violently between Hector and Lenore. Like the aftermath of a bomb hitting the ground, after a deafening explosion cracking the air with its vibrations, a deadly heavy silence befell between them. Hector was finally quiet. The word stayed hanging in the air, floating aimlessly above husband and wife, who stared at each other lost; both trying desperately to grasp the answer and find the meaning of their intertwined destinies in it.

“I…” Lenore started hesitant, sensing some warmth travel to her cheeks. Her eyes were locked with the Forgemaster’s, who had finally quieted and was giving her the needed space to speak. “Remember when I asked you why to live forever if you're not going to live well?” The vampire quietly asked and Hector nodded. “When you live a life as a single, there’s a point when it becomes lonely. The solitude is only briefly relieved by fleeting, meaningless affairs. It is quite an empty existence, really.” Lenore admitted, while her eyes rested on her hands, her fingers nervously intertwining. “I have longed, for quite a while already, to find somebody with whom I can share my life with, share happiness, perhaps even love. But that somebody never showed up. Until you came.”

The redhead lifted her eyes and read the utter surprise in Hector’s gaze. She could almost hear his thoughts, him thinking _this is not what I expected._ “When I first saw you, being dragged at the end of Carmilla’s army; wounded, exhausted, barefooted; I was honestly impressed. There was something in you that caught my attention. I do not know to explain why, but I just wanted to see more of you, to learn more about you. And when the opportunity came to negotiate with you; you did not disappoint me. You are a remarkably interesting man.”

She said with a smile and her heart warmed a bit as her expression was timidly reflected on Hector’s face without him even realizing it. “At each visit, this attraction for you only strengthened. Before I knew it, I had already decided, without really pondering why; but decided nonetheless, that I wanted you to be more than just a pet. I guess, what I am trying to say is, I thought you had the right qualities to make me happy as my husband. I still think so.”

A new moment of quietude fell restlessly between the two. Hector shifted a bit on the chair, sensing his face become warmer after the girl’s words. His heart pumped blood a bit harder and faster than it should. It was an overwhelming thing to hear. All his life he had been faced with rejection, with despise. His mind couldn’t grasp the idea a woman like Lenore, who had everything and could have anything she dreamed for; would choose him from all people, to marry in hopes of finding a life of happiness. It was beyond comprehensible. It made his heart flutter from warm glee.

“Well, that is, almost as flattering as it is disturbing.” The Forgemaster awkwardly smiled, while he was still trying to process what Lenore had just told him. He could feel a little bit lightheaded and his face was burning. He felt his embarrassment grow when the heat reached his ears.

“You mean because you are human or because I chose you to be my husband?” Lenore asked adoring the pink color that reached his cheeks, making him even more handsome. She was sure this was the first time she ever witnessed Hector blush. The vampire girl decided she would compliment him more often, just to watch him flush this deliciously.

“Everything, actually.” He said with a shake of his shoulders. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Oh, this is embarrassing.” Lenore murmured to herself, but Hector heard her the same. She shifted awkwardly on her chair. “I guess I was a bit overexcited after our first fight and at the idea of completing the marriage ritual. I honestly had forgotten humans didn’t know about our customs at that moment. And when I remembered, I had already pledged. I realized you were clueless and – I was too ashamed to tell you.” Lenore admitted sheepishly while she bit her thumbnail.

“ _You_ were embarrassed to tell _me_?” Hector questioned more shocked than anything else.

“Well, it was a silly lapse for something rather big, wasn’t it? I don’t usually make this kind of « _blunder»._ ” The redhead told while making quotation marks with her fingers, looking visibly upset and ashamed. Hector stared surprised at the girl before he chuckled amused.

“Were you afraid I would make fun of you?” The Forgemaster wondered in a half giggle and Lenore seemed to sink further in her embarrassment. “I wouldn’t make fun of you.”

“You are laughing right now!”

“Come on, Lenore. You do have to admit this is quite humorous.” He said in with a grin but his expression quickly changed into a more pensive. He sighed. “We both have serious communication issues, don’t we?” Lenore shook her shoulders once, not really sure how to respond to that. He gave her a concerned look. “What if I don’t want to stay in this marriage?”

“Tell me, if you look back to the past week, the time we spent together; has it been that bad?” The redhead questioned.

“No, it was rather a good week.” He admitted while he looked into her eyes. Everything she said up till now had sounded sincere, sweet as honey, logical, and correct. Like she always sounded. Hector wanted to believe her, wanted to take the risk, but; there it was. It was always a risk with Lenore. “Look, I do like you back. I don’t think it would be that bad sharing a lifetime with you, but you see; the problem is – you keep tricking me or lying or withholding or whatever you want to call it. And it makes it impossible for me to trust you. If there is no trust between us, what kind of relationship will we have?”

“Then, it comes down to two options, right? We separate as a couple or we find a way to work this out.” Lenore told and then silenced for a moment, while she bit her underlip thoughtfully. She needed to make things transparent to Hector and became extremely aware of the situation. The favor was always against Hector. “Again, this is unfair for you. You do not really have a choice, do you? I mean, if you decide to break up, you’ll be reduced to a full-time pet and lose all your rights of equality.”

“You are a real vile, little fucking strategist, aren’t you?” Hector retorted upset, recognizing her diplomatic method in guiding him to her trap. “Why do you keep presenting me options when there is really no choice?”

“God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it this way.” Lenore sincerely apologized, bringing her hand to her mouth in shame; realizing how manipulative she must have sounded. “Hector, I know it’s hard to believe, especially after the things I did; but I really don’t want to hurt you or trick you again,” Lenore told and could only hope he would believe her honesty. “I admit I committed massive mistakes, but I’m willing to learn to never repeat them again. Please. I really have feelings for you, and I want things to work out between us.”

“How do you suggest we work things out?” Hector questioned upset. His heart was jumping frenetically from nervous glee. For some disturbing reason, he was savoring each pleading word coming from the woman, needing to hear how badly she wanted him, needing to know how much she cared for him.

“Oh!” Lenore exclaimed excited while she gave a small jump on her chair, her hands half-raised in the air like she always did when she was thrilled about something. Hector’s eyes widened at her reaction. “Does this mean you accept being my husband?”

“Don’t get too carried away. I just want to weigh my options!” The Forgemaster said agitatedly. “If I stay married to you, it will be a marriage of convenience.”

“Aren’t all marriages of convenience?” Lenore questioned and Hector lifted an eyebrow skeptical. “I know you humans have marriages arranged by families. At least this is our choice.”

“Partially our choice.” Hector stubbornly said, while he had the sensation, he was quickly losing ground. “You are the one forcing me into accepting this marriage.”

“So, you don’t want to be married to me?” Lenore said with a sad expression. She giggled internally at the guilty look the man gave her. He was so sweet, so well-intentioned, so compassionate, it was impossible not to adore him.

“It’s not what I said.” He defensively told.

“So, you do want to stay married with me!” Lenore victoriously cheered and stood up to make a small run to him. Hector failed in hiding a smile, when the vampire practically jumped to sit on his lap, facing him. She cupped his face on her hands and pecked his lips, again and again, winning an amused muffed giggle from the man.

“Wait – Lenore - I didn’t…” Hector tried to say between the kisses the girl showered him with and chuckled, for she made it impossible for him to speak. His hands rested on her arms and he pushed her only a little to create enough distance to talk. “I didn’t give you your answer yet.”

“Oh, will you make up your mind already?” Lenore whined impatient, while she pouted annoyed. Hector’s eyes laid on her cute pout for a second and smiled at her expression. His eyes then shifted to hers and, blue meeting red. He smiled.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, I’ll stay married to you.” He said with the most tender look he ever gave the vampire.

Lenore stared at him somehow surprised, not so much because of the answer, but because of the look that accompanied it. She felt her heart swell up with immense joy, so much happiness, that tears reached her eyes. She chuckled sincerely elated and kissed Hector’s lips hard. He kissed her back with the same passion, while he wrapped his arms around her back and pressed her closer to his chest. Their tongues met as their kiss became hungrier. They kissed long and unhurriedly until there was no more air between them.

“Oh God, make love to me now.” Lenore begged excited, while the fire of passion spread from her heart to the rest of her body. Hector flinched when the redhead’s hand reached his thigh, ready to start stimulating him.

“Wait, Lenore, wait.” Hector begged in a breathless whimper.

“You must be the first man in history uttering such a request.” The vampire girl playfully told, disrespecting his wish, as her hand found an already half-hard cock under his pants’ fabric and started giving it stimulating strokes.

“I have some conditions.” He said in a choke, her hand skillfully making him harder.

“Do you?”

“Yes, I want – Ah!” He winced from crude pleasure as Lenore gave a little bite on the side of his neck, just under his jaw. His eyes rolled back and for moments he forgot what he wanted to say.

“You want?”

“I want – I want you to stop lying to me. No more tricks.” He demanded in a weak voice and Lenore locked her eyes with his. Her hand slid under his pants and her fingers enveloped his cock, pulling the skin back and giving a bit more power to her movements. Hector gasped breathless.

“No more tricks. I promise. No more lies. You have my word.” She solemnly said, before taking his underlip between her teeth and pulled it softly.

“A-Another thing.”

“Yes?”

“Stop calling me _good boy._ ” Hector bluntly demanded. The vampire stopped with her caresses and leaned a bit back to look better at Hector, her face denouncing surprise and confusion.

“Why?”

“Because I hate it.” He darkly said. Lenore lifted her eyebrows in surprise. She then grinned maliciously and teased his aroused erection with a challenging look. Hector suppressed a moan and his mind went blank from the wondrous sensation.

“But Hector.” Lenore spoke in a fake innocent tone. “I do so enjoy calling you _good boy._ ” She said while she moved his pants down enough to free his penis and press it against her already damp vulva. The man gasped a whimper and trembled from anticipation. “It’s a compliment for when you behave well. Like now, when you have your cock as big and hard as my pussy likes.” Hector thought he was going to lose his mind at her words. She was rubbing his sensible erection up and down her sex. It was painfully delicious, sensing her moistened arousal, but restraining it from her entrance. He involuntarily moved his pelvis, wanting - needing to go inside of her, but she wouldn’t allow. “Please, do let me compliment you. Do let me tell you how well-behaved you are.” She whispered in his ear, her warm breath exciting him, making him restless. She positioned his head at her entrance and stopped her movements. Hector released an unhappy small whine and panted frustrated. “Pretty please?”

“O-Okay – But only in this context.” He managed to verbalize as he struggled to think properly, while his mind was quickly being consumed by lust.

“Good boy.” Lenore told in her characteristic praising tone, while her eyes connected with Hector’s. He failed to repress a moan and hide the most beautiful expression of simultaneous pleasure, pain and relieve, when the vampire lowered herself, allowing his erection to slide completely inside her heated body.

How Hector wanted to curse and insult Lenore, while he thrust hard from under her. How he wanted to shout he hated her, while he licked and nibbled her neck’s creamy skin. Scream how wrong this marriage is, while they kissed feverishly. But he would be lying to himself. Because the reality was, he truly wanted Lenore, like nothing he ever wanted in his life. His fingers clenched her skin under her dress with force, like he was afraid she would disappear. He looked at her and drowned at the vision of this beautiful woman surrendered to pleasure. He listened to her meowing, adoring those sounds of arousal, increasing his own excitement.

Hector wanted to whisper her sweet and tender words, but they were stuck in his throat. He pounded so wildly from under her, held her tight against his body with so much strength, he was thankful she was a vampire and her body could take his heated despair.

Hector wanted to love her and make her happy. He wanted to tell her how grateful he was for her choosing him. But his voice was cut by groans and grunts. Lenore emitted little delicious moans, her eyes locking with his, her expression one of overwhelming pain and pleasure. Hector was drunk by the redhead, by her beauty, by her intelligence, by her caring nature. Whatever qualities she saw in him, whatever made her think he could be a good husband; it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she saw something in him and wanted him for that. It filled his heart with joy, with a sentiment that was strange to him but felt so extraordinarily good, he wanted desperately to hold on to it, to keep it and never stop feeling it.

Hector thought he was going to die as he sunk deeper and deeper in the waves of pleasured lust. He surrendered himself completely to the vampire. He was hot and feverish, sweat drops traveling down his skin. He tasted the salt on Lenore and knew he never had tasted anything this good in his life. Hector knew in his heart, he would follow Lenore everywhere, anywhere, to the end of the world and beyond. His body hit hers hard and crazy, all coordination lost. The vampire accepted each hit to her womb with a delicious moan, begging for more and more. Delirium consumed their bodies with pleasure, their minds went blank from fever. Human and vampire, husband and wife, happily drowned together in the sublime honeyed waters of ecstasy.

Lenore was Hector’s beacon of light in his miserable life.

And while their bodies remained pressed against each other during the afterglow, Hector smiled sincerely at the words whispered in his ear.

“Good boy.”


	8. The Council

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> Writer: Darktragicangel
> 
> Beta: Shadowking514

Lenore entered the Council room.

Although it was early, still some hours before sundown; Lenore had left Hector’s house much later than intended. There were some important matters she wanted to discuss with the queen of Styria; but she didn’t have the heart to leave Hector right after they made up. Lenore had been told Carmilla was in the Council room alone, which was perfect since she wanted to speak with the woman in private. The snow-haired vampire, who was leaning over the table, sorting out several maps; lifted her head when she heard the footsteps.

“The meeting is only in an hour, Lenore.” Carmilla said with a kind smile, while she straightened her back.

“I know.” The younger vampire spoke with the same friendly tone, while she headed to the glass shelve and served herself a glass of blood.

“You cheeky little tart. You came here to find me alone and tell me off because of the other day.” The queen said amused and in a lighthearted manner.

Lenore sat on the chair facing Carmilla and chuckled at the woman’s playfulness. She had come prepared, having rehearsed the conversation in her head, but still felt a bit anxious. She loved the queen and knew her sisterly love was reciprocal, but she also knew Carmilla longer than one day. She knew her opinions and convictions, she knew her temper and her reactions. She would have to guide the conversation skillfully because of the other woman’s firm and indomitable personality.

“You did violate our deal.” Lenore told with a knowing look. She took a sip of the blood, the copper reaching her tongue and somehow smoothing her anxiety. “I will forgive you for this once.”

“How merciful of you.” Carmilla said in a teasing manner, but the redhead lifted her right hand making a halting gesture, while her carefree smile faded and was replaced by a severe expression. The white-haired vampire’s cheerfulness died immediately, her playful mood shifting completely to a tense one. Carmilla expected a scolding from the younger female.

“I might have not been clear enough the first time, so allow me to clarify how our agreement works.” Lenore spoke in her negotiating tone and Carmilla suppressed an annoyed sigh, while she sat down. “In exchange for a loyal army of night creatures, Hector gets comfort and gets to feel safe. His new house is his refuge, the place that is his own. His home. Where he feels safe. That is the reason I put a soldier guarding the walkway’s entrance. Nobody, but Hector and I, can walk through those doors. Unless you are invited, Morana, Striga, and yourself are _not_ allowed there. In any circumstances. It happened for the first and the last time.” Lenore said in a businesslike manner, objective and straight to the point. “I don’t care if you carry the title of queen. We rule as four, we rule as equals. Those are the rules from our Council. If they are disrespected, there will be consequences.”

“You mean like the guard you ordered to be executed because he let us pass through the doors to your beloved pet’s house?” Carmilla questioned. “I’m not very pleased you took that decision without consulting us.”

“The order to forbid passage was given by me, Carmilla. I am, therefore, the only one with the right to pass any sentence to his infraction and you know that.” Lenore calmly reminded how their law system worked. So far, so good. She could see on the other woman’s face, she wasn’t happy at all with their conversation, but she was listening and that was what counted the most.

“Very well. I won’t trespass his terrain anymore. But I do have a question for you, Lenore.” The queen spoke darkly and Lenore wondered what she would ask. “Is Hector creating a habit of murdering vampires?”

“What do you mean?”

“I was informed, just a while ago, our dear Blacksmith, the one who made your slave rings; died two nights ago. If I am correct, it was exactly two nights ago that Hector forged his new hammer. I believe he has a stronger motivation to kill the old man than Striga last Christmas.”

“Alas, that is the truth.” Lenore said with a heavy sigh but never leaving her serene diplomatic tone. “A Devil’s Forgemaster must kill somebody they hate with the forging instrument to activate its magic. It was a necessary sacrifice.”

“I’m sure it was.” Carmilla murmured upset and the redhead could hear the skepticism in her undertone.

“I can show you the manuscript where you can confirm this information.” Lenore told quietly, never losing her self-assurance

The queen of Styria grimaced, knowing the redhead wasn’t lying. Lenore never made stuff up. She never risked losing her credibility. She didn’t need to. It was a terrifying talent, this skill of hers that made her a master in using the truth to achieve her goals. Carmilla understood Lenore’s goal right now was to clear Hector of any charges. She was actually protecting the bastard and preventing him from being punished. Carmilla would ask later for the book and seek the truth herself. As for now, she wasn’t releasing Hector from his felonious actions that easily.

“How would you describe his murder attempt on me, then? When he tried to combust me with daylight?” Carmilla questioned with a malicious victorious smirk. She was shocked when Lenore laughed amused at her questioning.

“Come on, Carmilla. The sun was still weak and very low. You would have easily stepped back to the shadows with minimal burns, which would have healed instantly. That’s why you didn’t even press on the matter yesterday.” Lenore said in a dismissive and good-humored manner. Carmilla somehow felt disarmed by the redhead’s tone. The redhead made it sound like her rightful accusation had no real fundaments and was, in fact, ridiculous.

“It still would have been painful.” The woman told offended and not amused at all. “And I’m not sure how far Hector knows how long it takes for a vampire to combust in sunlight. I’m quite sure his intention was to kill me. You should have seen the way he looked at me.”

“Probably with the same murderous look you gave him.” Lenore said in a relaxed manner, knowing she was winning this discussion. Diplomacy was her playground after all. Carmilla was clever, but Lenore was slick. She managed to persuade with honesty while having ulterior intentions. She was easily steering the conversation with her charm to where she wanted and the other woman was simply chanceless. “Besides, we were in the middle of a fight and you unexpectantly invaded his home. What did you expect? But…” Lenore tapped her chin with her index, while she looked pensive. “…I don’t believe he was really trying to kill you. Otherwise the ring would have activated. I think he only wanted to make sure you couldn’t enter the house. He was quite perturbed you were there.”

Carmilla stared frustrated at Lenore. The girl looked serene and had a sweet kind smile on her lips, bringing the illusion of empathy. The queen of Styria knew all too well. From the inside, the little bitch was confident and smiling triumphantly. The redhead had used strong arguments and torn down all her sister’s points with great ease. Carmilla could insist but knew Lenore would counter each fact with effective validation, while she would sink further and further in her own disadvantage. The silver-haired vampire hated her sister in moments as such. At the same time, she couldn’t help but feel great admiration for her skills. Carmilla knew it was a lost battle. There was no concrete evidence or proof strong enough to use against the man. Most important, Hector was under Lenore’s protection. The vampire girl was his shield and, as long as she wanted to protect him, the human was untouchable. Carmilla grinned internally. All she had to do was figure out a way to make Lenore upset with her silly pet and she would side with her beloved sister again. Carmilla knew to be patient, so today, she would swallow her pride, and wait for the right moment and the right circumstances to present themselves. She knew it was just a matter of time.

“Let’s hope you are right. Because Striga said, and I quote – _the Forgemaster has the soul of a warrior_.” Carmilla said mimicking Striga’s voice, accent and manners.

“What? Hector has a gentle nature. Sure, he was mad yesterday, but he’s not violent.” The redhead retorted sincerely surprised.

“I agree with you. But you know Striga. She said something about recognizing the look in his eyes. Said he has an unbendable will and if he wants something, he will stop at nothing.” Carmilla smartly said while stretching her index in Lenore’s direction in a warning sign.

“Striga might have a point there.” Lenore said in a thoughtful manner. She couldn’t believe Carmilla was trying to plant insecurity about Hector in her mind with such a weak and unconvincing argument. The queen wasn’t even trying her best. Somehow, this disappointed Lenore. “He is strong-willed. Resilient. After all, he did survive your 800 miles march, after being brutally beaten up. I’m surprised he got here still standing on his two feet.”

“That’s because I made sure that miserable excuse of a human would survive the journey.” Carmilla spoke in an unbelievable combination of gracious arrogance.

Lenore didn’t quite like the woman’s phrasing. Bitterness reached her tongue and filled with an aftertaste of resentment. Unfortunately, she realized this was the way Hector had been referred to since he arrived in the castle. Her sisters, but especially Carmilla, talked about Hector like if he was a disgraced creature, a despicable animal, with an absolute absence of respect for his existence, for his intellect, for his feelings. Instead of defending Hector, Lenore had consented and even participated in this superior behavior.

It was wrong.

It was unfair to consider a species inferior only because they have a short lifespan or because they are physically weaker. It was especially unfair to treat Hector in this manner, a man with a great intellect and singular magical abilities; a human chose by Dracula himself to become his General. She could not imagine how unbearably humiliating it must have been when he was tricked by Carmilla first and then by herself. He must have been building up so much revolt and frustration, it was no wonder he had blown up. Yet, he had forgiven her. Not only that, but he accepted her despite her wrongdoings. He was a jewel of a man. It was time to live up to her promises and make things right for Hector. The Devil’s Forgemaster was going to receive the respect he deserved.

“That _miserable excuse of a human_ has a name, Carmilla.” Lenore spoke in an uncharacteristic cold tone.

“Our Lenore is defending her pet? How sweet.” The white-haired vampire said in a scornful manner while the redhead narrowed her eyes and pouted upset. She straightened her back, crossed her arms and rested her right leg on her left, before speaking again.

“I pledged to him.”

The phrase came out bluntly and was dropped unexpectedly like a heavy rock. Carmilla, who was taking a sip of her drink at that moment, almost spat in shock. She felt the copper climb up to her nose and had to use a great deal of self-control to push it down her throat. When she swallowed the blood, she stared stunned at Lenore.

“You pledged to him? A filthy human? Are you demented?” Carmilla questioned exasperated. “What will be next? You’re having a bunch of half-human vampires and moving to a cozy little cottage by the coast?” She spat furious, each syllable sounding despising and venomous. Her tone made Lenore’s insides turn.

“And what if I do?” Lenore riposted back, upset with the woman’s savagery.

“You have gone mad!”

“Who’s gone mad?” Striga asked when she entered the Council, Morana following her suit. Both stood a moment still, staring at the other two women and sensing an uneasy tension among them. Not like it was the first time the two quarreled.

“Lenore is married to Hector.” Carmilla announced, her face contorted from ire.

“What? Why would you do that?” Morana calmly asked with a clear note of surprise in her tone. “His beauty is only going to last another 10, 20 years at most.”

“…Beauty.” Carmilla complained in a scornful derisive manner before the redhead could even give an answer. Lenore glared angrily at the queen of Styria, red flashing quickly in her eyes.

“You have to admit he’s a very handsome man.” Morana spoke casually, while she sat down. Striga stared at her lover with an eyebrow lifted, in disbelief. “I’m surprised you didn’t take advantage of him at Dracula’s Castle.”

“I probably would have killed the bastard by accident. And that would have been very inconvenient, because Isaac, the alternative, had an unwavering loyalty to Dracula.” Carmilla explained while she waved her hand in the air irritated, but having meanwhile cooled down considerably.

“So, you did consider abusing the poor boy.” Morana teased with a knowing smile. Lenore’s eyes shrunk at the revelation, not enjoying it one bit. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised.

“You’re sidetracking this conversation. Lenore is married to a fucking human!” Carmilla raised her voice, returning to her angry register, while she impatiently gestured at an offended-looking redheaded vampire.

“Lenore is a grown-up woman. It’s her decision to marry whoever she wishes to marry. Whatever her reasons might be.” Morana spoke coolly. Carmilla and Striga stared at her surprised and shocked, neither understanding why she was taking this so unconcernedly. "We are here to discuss the invasions, not Lenore’s private life.” The redhead gave a triumphant look at Carmilla, who wrinkled her nose in irritation. “We’ll keep that for after of the meeting.” Lenore opened her mouth in shock and Carmilla didn’t even try to hide her snickering. Striga smiled, now understanding Morana only wished to put an end to the dispute; bring down the tension between the sisters and delay the topic to a moment when both would be calmer. “Striga, will you please present us with your military strategy?”

Striga ignored the tension still palpable between Carmila and Lenore and stood from her chair. She looked at the different charts on the table and chose the largest map, the one depicting Europe’s eastern territories. Carmilla and Lenore exchanged silent venomous glares before, they too, followed Striga’s example.

“We start by placing vampire and night creatures’ troops in Graz to control the area and eliminate any disturbances there.” The military vampire explained while she traced a line with her finger from their present location to a point in the map. “In Szekesfehervar we have the first split and send the First Legion to conquer Budapest. The main body will continue in Braila’s direction through Timisoara and Brasov. Once we have Braila secured, we can start our invasions in building our human pen by going eastwards, via Odessa and Mykolaiv. Our target then is the mouth of the River Dnieper. From then on, we follow it upwards and conquer the lands along the Dnieper all the way up to Kiev.”

“Isn’t it risky to dwell in such a large region with moving waters?” Morana asked, her elegant index tracing the river’s blue line on the map.

“The river is wide. It functions as a perfect natural boundary. If we build a system of defensive fortifications along the river’s shore, the eastern side will be completely sealed. It will be practically impossible for humans to escape and will be extremely difficult to invade from the East.” The military explained with conviction.

“Still, all you need is a priest to bless the waters and it will be a deadly frontier for us.” Carmilla pointed out, reminding everybody of her strategy at Braille.

“These fortifications will function exclusively for defensive purposes at the border, so we’ll station there mostly night creatures and only the necessary number of soldiers.”

“That is a good solution. Perhaps we can even replace the vampire soldiers by human mercenaries.” Morana suggested, thinking in a way of eliminating any risk of vampires touching the waters.

“I would restrict the mercenaries to the current task of getting us dead bodies for the forge.” Lenore intervened. “Even if they are not loyally bound to any king, they are humans. There is always the possibility they may rebel against our cause. Or even betray us in exchange for more values, privileges, lands.”

“I agree with Lenore.” Carmilla said, swallowing her pride for the second time, for the sake of her plan, her dream. “Who will the guard the fortifications is, at this moment, a minor detail. There is something else in your plan that is troubling me, Striga.” The queen said while her long fingers traveled the map until one of her clawlike nails rested on top of a name. “Odesa will be difficult to take. It's protected by two lakes and the sea on three sides. We can only invade from the land.”

“This is a great disadvantage.” Morana agreed. “Our army will be exposed, vulnerable.”

“Our army will be strong enough.” Striga said confident and with a hint of stubbornness.

“Even with a mighty army, there will be many losses. Also, do not underestimate humans.” Lenore carefully warned. “Don’t forget their history consists mostly of wars, invasions, conquerors. They may even find ways to beat us in such a battle.”

“Maybe we can go around the northeast and enter through the smallest part of the land.” Morana suggested. “It’s straighter, easier to invade.”

“This piece of land has a lake on one side and the sea on the other. Humans will surely push us in the water’s direction.” Carmilla pointed out, a hint of frustration reaching her voice.

The four women paused for a moment and looked at the chart depicting Odesa. What followed next was a long brainstorming in finding solutions for this problem. Each suggestion would be crushed and wholly defeated by unbreakable facts. Odesa proved to be a more difficult problem to solve than the sisters had expected. They went back and forward redrawing strategy plans, making new calculations, distributing numbers of night creatures, and vampire soldiers. There was not one proposal suitable enough for consensus among the quartet. It created divisions among the four women until in the end, they were discussing more from tired frustration than anything else.

“We reached an impasse.” Striga sternly declared after the countless disapproved plan.

“We should take a break and clear our heads.” Lenora suggested while she massaged her scalp with her fingertips. “We are already hours around this, and we are not thinking clearly anymore. Instead we are only becoming more and more worked up.”

“Taking a break is not going to help! We have already drawn all possible options!” Carmilla exclaimed incensed, her normally perfectly straight hair disheveled. 

“Lenore is right. We keep going around circles.” Morana spoke in a pensive manner, her fingers elegantly tugging a strand of her well-modeled hair behind her ear. “Maybe we need a different approach. A different point of view.”

“What are you suggesting?” Carmilla asked somberly, taking a long sip of red wine from her glass. Blood wasn’t strong enough anymore to ease her irritation.

“Why don’t we call for the Forgemaster?”

“God, have we come to the point of needing to resort to a fucking human’s advice?” Carmilla complained in a defeated tone. Lenore immediately gave her a dark look and was about to speak her mind, when Morana, always placid and rational, gestured her to wait.

“The last time I spoke with him, he seemed to have a capable, strategic mind. He was one of Dracula’s generals, after all.” The organizer tactically explained her suggestion, but Carmilla groaned upset. “He did present the attack to Braille, didn’t he?”

“Only after I suggested it.”

“But he supported and elaborated your suggestion, right? He could have disregarded it completely and come up with something entirely different.” Morana insisted, never losing her calm. “I say we give it a try. I already know Lenore agrees, what do you think, Striga?” The tall woman hesitated at the question. She locked her eyes with Morana’s and could read the silent request in her look. Striga honestly thought it was a waste of time. She doubted the human could help.

“I guess it cannot harm having a fifth opinion.” The military vampire answered, nonetheless.

“Shall I call him then? I could use a little leg stretching.” Lenore spoke while she stood up.

“Yeah, whatever. Bring the man, if you think he can solve this shit.” Carmilla said clearly too tired and pissed off to go against her sisters right now.

“Good. Let’s all take a break meanwhile.” Morana told with a satisfied smile.

…

Hector ignored when he heard the door being opened, and continued hitting the hard stone with his hammer, light blue encircling him and the corpse in transformation. It didn’t take long for the scent of jasmine to reach his nose. He immediately halted his movements and turned to confirm it was Lenore. He stared at her with an inquisitive expression, since the redhead never visited him when he was forging.

“We need you at the Council.” Lenore told uncomfortable, after reading the question on his face. She witnessed apprehensive curiosity be replaced by dread.

“Must I?” He asked despondently.

Lenore nodded and the unwillingness became heavier on his face. She gave him a compassionate smile. Lenore knew Hector had been avoiding the meetings at all costs. Whenever she invited him to a reunion, he would come up with all kinds of excuses. He would mainly tell her he needed all his time and energy invested in the forging of the night creatures, but she knew it to be a lie. Carmilla had told the Forgemaster had no problems in dividing his time between the forging and the War Council at Dracula’s Court and still had time left to dedicate himself to his revived pets. Lenore never pressed the matter on Hector, but she was quite sure the man had felt extremely uneasy in the only meeting he had attended. Her sisters had been far from welcoming and the air had been filled with tension. The vampire girl knew his discomfort was partly her fault since she had treated him with the derisive tone he had complained about during their fights. She did act like a spoil princess brat, arrogantly showing off her pet’s talents. Lenore had agreed to change her behavior, her attitude and this was an opportunity to prove that she was making a real effort.

“We are having trouble in defining an invasion strategy for Odesa. Morana suggested you giving your opinion on the matter.” She explained hoping the knowledge it was Morana’s and not her idea would ease his mind a bit.

“It was Morana’s suggestion?” The man questioned positively surprised. Lenore nodded, while giving an encouraging smile.

“Yes. She had a good impression of you. Said you are capable and strategic.” Lenore proudly said and saw Hector’s face relax a bit, a hint of a smile reaching his lips. “Please, we really could use some help.”

There was a hesitance. Lenore waited patiently, giving the man the needed space to ponder. He looked apprehensive, but there was a glint of determination in his eyes. The answer came in the form of a nod.

About twenty minutes later Hector and Lenore reached the Council room. Lenore had given most of the details about the invasion on their way to the meeting. They had heard the voices of chatter and laughter while approaching the room, but they instantly died the moment the human stepped foot in the division. Hector was immediately overpowered by nerves. His eyes glanced concernedly in Lenore’s direction. She bit her tongue while cursing internally for her sisters’ lack of discretion. Her small hand rested on his upper arm, giving him a reassuring nod. She could pick up his accelerated heartbeat under his skin and the tension in his contracted muscles. Hector was very nervous.

The Devil’s Forgemaster took a deep breath before politely greeting the women. Three expectant pairs of eyes rested on him. He walked towards the table with a straight posture, hiding most of his anxiety. He had the unpleasant feeling he had just reached an important intersection in his life. What he would do or say could determine his future. This could be his first step to acceptance or his complete downfall. Each step he took was heavy lead, his legs carried him weak but determined. Hector took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. It felt like he was going to make an important exam, a test on his skills, on his credibility. He could succeed or he could fail. The latter was out of question.

This was his chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The named places are real. Yay for Google maps XD


	9. Odesa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> Writer: Darktragicangel
> 
> Beta: Shadowking514
> 
> Updated a bit later, this chapter gave quite some work, I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> For followers of my other Carmilla/Hector fic «Somewhere Between» I have updated chapter 22 a few days ago.

The Devil’s Forgemaster reached the center of the room with a racing heart. It had been a short distance but felt like a long endless mile. His eyes avoided the piercing looks the three vampires were giving him, so instead, he focused on the table. It was carved in white stone, a round of shape, covered in maps and charts. A fleeting thought reached his mind, evoking the myth of King Arthur and the knights of the round table and the idealistic system of equality. This fleeting thought brought back Lenore’s voice to his mind, telling him Carmilla was the queen, but the sisters ruled as a quartet, as equals. This was, for him, an unorthodox system. In his world, the patriarchal human world, it was an inconceivable idea woman would have power, happening only very rarely or in very exceptional circumstances. Just like it was unthinkable this same power could be equally and democratically shared. In the 15th century’s human society, this concept belonged to the realm of dreams, myths, and fantasy. Yet, here he was. Standing before four powerful, intelligent women; proving this utopic system was possible.

Hector’s momentous contemplation was broken by Morana’s voice. He was too distracted to understand exactly what she was saying, but his mind understood it had something to do with welcoming. His eyes glanced tentatively from Morana to Striga and forcefully avoided Carmilla. The thought he was in the same room as she made acidic hatred reach his throat.

“I already filled him about Odesa,” Lenore informed the others while she sat on her chair.

Hector’s eyes met hers and she smiled confident at him, hoping it would appease some of his nerves. Striga looked at Lenore for a moment, unable to understand why her youngest sister was putting so much effort and faith in this human. She redirected her eyes to the maps on the table and breathed a sigh through her nose while she slid Odesa’s map towards Hector.

“Do you see a way of limiting our disadvantage in invading Odesa?” Striga reluctantly asked the Forgemaster, while she looked at him sternly.

Hector didn’t meet Striga’s eyes. His full focus rested now on the lines of the map. Odesa was, just like Lenore had described, a large harbor city greatly surrounded by water, its natural fortress. The Black Sea on the east side, two lakes to the north. Land to the west and south, the direction Styria’s army was coming from. Yes, he could see the disadvantages of the vampire army. There were three ways of conquering the city – from the sea, by having a naval battle; from the land with a marching army; or attacking the city with both ways combined. These strategies were dangerous and limited for humans and vampires. He hummed to himself, and the four vampires looked at him expectantly. Lenore and Morana were hopeful for two completely different reasons, Striga was doubtful about Hector’s abilities and Carmilla was already grinning malevolently, convinced the man had no solution for their problem.

“Yeah, the only way for you to invade Odesa in indeed from the west, land inwards.” The man said in absolute certainty. He was going to elaborate, but the queen, anxious in proving the human’s incompetence, jumped right in between.

“Isn’t that surprising? Let’s just forget about Odesa and find another route, because this is obviously not getting us anywhere!” Carmilla said energetically, while she threw her hands in the air. “I knew this was a waste of time.” She poisonously said while she locked her icy gaze on Hector’s. The man glared back and the vampire would swear she read confidence in his face. He straightened his back and crossed his arms, never breaking eye contact with the queen.

“You need a distraction.” He plainly stated and paused purposely, to let his words sink properly in the arrogant woman’s mind. He resisted a smile when he read confusion and a hint of curiosity on her face. He turned to Striga. “You want to weaken the defense on the west side, so you need the city’s army to be focused elsewhere.”

“Okay. I’m listening.” Striga said in a wary tone. Was it possible this man had actually thought of something they didn’t? As far as she could remember, they had weighed all options, including distraction maneuvers. Morana and Lenore switched mystified looks. The redhead’s heart was racing from nervous anticipation, rooting insanely for her man and truly hoping he knew what he was talking about.

“Cause a great fire on the extreme opposite side of the city,” Hector told while he pointed the city’s harbor outline.

“How do you suggest we start a fire there if we can’t even reach the western walls?” Striga questioned skeptical, not hiding one bit her suspicions on the man’s logic.

“Do you mean to send flying fire gargoyles?” Morana questioned and Hector turned to look at her. “I like the idea, but they still can be shot down with arrows and be killed once they reach the ground. It won’t guarantee a fire large enough to mobilize the soldiers from the western wall.” At least she was impartial and objective, Hector thought, just like the one time they discussed night creatures. The Forgemaster considered Morana a more reliable person compared to Striga, who was obviously stubborn and Carmilla who, for some reason, just wanted to see him miserable.

“I was actually thinking of Sea Fire.” He told the dark-skinned vampire, who gave him a confused look.

“Sea Fire? Are you talking about Greek Fire?” Striga asked sincerely surprised and the human nodded. It had been centuries ago, the last time she heard of Greek Fire. It was a famous incendiary weapon used by the Byzantine Empire to set enemy ships in the fire. It could be ignited on contact with water and would continue burning while floating on it.

“Have winged night creatures drop enough on the sea and also inside the walls in the eastern side.” Hector proceeded in explaining, his index drawing the line of Odesa’s walls on the map. “The fire on the water will prevent Odesa’s ships from aiding the city and, since this kind of fire is extremely difficult to put out, all possible manpower will be needed on the eastern part of the city to extinguish it. Wait for havoc to break in and not only the walls to the west and south will be largely abandoned, but most communication and coordination between the armies will be lost. Meaning the western and southern walls will be weakened and vulnerable enough for you to attack them.”

Silence invaded the room after the man finished his reasoning. All four vampires were speechless. None had come up with such an idea. It was a bold plan. One that could actually work. The Devil’s Forgemaster glanced from one to the other, feeling confident about his plan, but still being plagued by nerves. What if they would find a fault in his strategy? Or reprove it from spite? His eyes eventually met Lenore’s. She had been quiet the whole time, giving him the space to expose his idea. The redhead gave him a reassuring prideful smile, alleviating a bit of his concern. His lips did not smile, but his eyes glinted in appreciation.

“Shit. Why didn’t I come up with that?” Striga finally broke the silence, a sincere smile reaching her lips for the first time. She looked directly at the Forgemaster. “A brilliant plan. Expected from a former General from Dracula’s court.” Hector took in a long breath of relief and glee, a timid smile reaching his eyes and lips.

“I’m a bit confused.” Carmilla came in between, sounding impatient. “I thought the knowledge of Greek Fire was lost centuries ago.”

“Not lost, its recipe has been secretly kept all this time by a small, restricted, and very specific group.” The Forgemaster casually told and the silver-haired vampire widened her eyes, connecting the dots.

“Alchemists,” Carmilla said in realization while standing up. She grinned, not so much because of the solution itself, but because the Forgemaster was confirming it had been a wise choice to bring him to Styria. The following words were more a compliment to herself than to the human. “Brilliant, Hector.”

Carmilla said in a half-whisper and her hand was already attempting to reach his curls, in the same manner, she used to do in Dracula’s castle. Hector recognizing the gesture, darted just in time, giving a step backward and then sending her a dark look. He glared in a mix of anger and affront, while a horrible chilling chill went down his spine. The queen withdrew her hand looking surprised and suddenly was very aware of her gesture. She let her arms fall to her side graciously, while she glanced briefly at the three women.

“What the Hell was that?” Lenore questioned in disbelief.

“That was clearly a rejection,” Morana said in a small chuckle, looking amused at Hector’s still violated look on his face. “This is a very rare occurrence, isn’t it Carmilla? To be rejected by a man?”

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t trying anything.” Carmilla said insulted while she sat down again and crossed her arms.

“You were clearly flirting with him!” Lenore spat angrily and Hector looked genuinely disgusted.

“Calm down, Lenore, I would never lay a finger on him.” The queen of Styria said arrogantly. Her following words were tainted by raw hate. “I’m not some slut that lowers herself to the point of seducing such a disgracing creature.”

A smacking sound followed. And a heavy silence befell in the room. Everybody stared shocked at Lenore. She had just teleported herself and slapped Carmilla hard across her face. The silver-haired vampire reached her hand to her cheek. The girl was smaller than her, but she sure could hit hard. Her cheek was actually glowing. She looked up at the younger vampire. Lenore bore a rare look of fury on her features, making her look dangerous without losing any of her cuteness. There had been a red flash in her eyes, but it vanished as soon as it came. Now all that was left was a fire in her gaze.

“Take that back,” Lenore demanded in a chocked voice.

This was not the first time Carmilla and Lenore quarreled. Sometimes their fights would get quite heated, both vampires becoming quite verbal. But never had Lenore lost her temper. Never had she slapped Carmilla or anybody else. The queen of Styria swallowed a bitter choke of anger, realizing she had crossed the line. It made her hate that bastard of Lenore’s human husband even more because he was the reason for their stupid fight. Above all, she was hating herself for being the one who insulted and humiliated her beloved sister.

“I’m sorry. It was not my intention to insult you.” Carmilla ended up saying, sincerity reaching her voice. She witnessed the anger dissipate from Lenore’s face, only leaving a reminiscence of severity on her features.

“Well, I believe we finally reached a consensus regarding the invasion of Odesa.” Morana quietly said while acting as nothing had just happened. “It has been a long night, I propose we conclude our meeting. We’ll discuss the rest of the details tomorrow.” She then turned to the Forgemaster, who was still wearing an expression of shock on his face. “Hector, I believe you were interrupted by your work. Thank you for lending us some of your time to help us. You may leave us now.” She kindly said. The man looked at Morana still agitated and then glanced over to Lenore. He was worried the conflict would continue and escalate violently.

“Lenore…”

“Leave,” Lenore said in a low but hurried tone, the command clear and firm.

Hector unconsciously gave a step back, fear hitting him like a slap. He gave a quick nod and his eyes lingered awkwardly on Lenore a few seconds before he turned around and walked towards the door. He exited the room without adding a word. The vampire girl swallowed dry, a sense of guilt taunting her. She needed the man to be away but hadn’t meant to sound so harsh. The four vampires listened to the man’s footsteps, first steady and holding on to a normal rhythm, but after a short while, they broke into a run.

Hector raced to his forge as fast as his legs allowed, adrenaline flowing fast in his veins, his head full of all kinds of thoughts. He ran past several guards, who stared at him surprised. He reached his workshop in record time, huffing loudly and breathless. He paced slowly, in the room, allowing his body to calm down. Once his breathing and heart beating was more stabilized, he rested his hands on the cold forging stone, his eyes meeting the half-transmuted corpse laying on it.

Hector reached for his hammer. What had been that? The slap Lenore gave Carmilla had caught him completely off guard. Although it had given him a pleasure to see the redhead fend herself against the other woman and thought the slap was very well-deserved; he was concerned for the girl’s safety. Lenore’s command had come as a hit to him, but now he was dismissing it. He feared Lenore didn’t want him there to witness what would follow next. Hector had watched, a few unfortunate times, fights between vampires at Dracula’s court. The violence was nothing compared to a human bar fight. Vampires were strong, brutal, and vicious.

The Forgemaster held his hammer with both hands. Lenore was ten times stronger than him and knew Carmilla better than anyone. He needed to have faith she would be fine. Besides, Morana and Striga were there too, so if things would come out of control, they surely would prevent the two from hurting themselves. He felt part of his nerves vanish as he conformed himself with this thought. As he gradually calmed down, a different thought emerged in his mind, making him smile genuinely.

He looked at his hammer, his fingertips tracing the alchemist symbols engraved in it. Hector had proven the Council he was more than a Devil’s Forgemaster, a forger of demons. More than an Alchemist, a keeper of old science. Above all, he had proven he was much more than a pet, a slave, an inferior mortal man. Today, and for the first time since he had fallen captive, he felt a bit more like his old self. Even if it had been briefly, Dracula’s General had emerged and excelled four influential, much older, and therefore experienced women. The sensation that followed was exhilarant.

There were few things Hector was confident about himself, but his intellect was something he always held with pride. It was his mind that made him renown among scholars in the Aegean region, it was the fame for his intelligence that brought Dracula to his door. His accumulated knowledge allowed him to explore one of the most obscure and difficult magic in the world. The idea he had impressed the four rulers made him feel worthy and confident. It was seldom he felt so proud of himself. He shook his head while he chuckled amused, still not believing this had happened.

Hector lifted his hammer, flooded by new confidence. Light blue waves surrounded him and danced around him like smoke. It was his magic working its way from his hands to the metal. The Devil’s Forgemaster was at work again, raising the dead.

…

The four vampire rulers stood quiet until the sound of Hector’s hurried footsteps faded in the distance. There was a long moment of contemplative silence. Carmilla was chewing the bitter aftertaste of her humiliating moment, not sure what had been worse. Lenore’s slap or being outsmarted by Hector. Striga was trying to accept a human had come up with a better strategy than her. Both her vampire and military pride were hurt because the boy had presented a solution she never thought about. Morana was concerned with the weight Lenore’s wedding with a human would have in their Council. She had faith in the man’s intellect and saw in him a promising ally, but feared he would become too much of a destabilizer.

Lenore unexpected devotion to the human would have unavoidable consequences. The harmony between the quartet was endangered because the four women weren’t in accordance with Hector’s position in their political status quo. It was still unclear what role he would play in the future. Also, the Forgemaster was not only the first human to receive any kind of rights in Styria, but he was participating and contributing in matters of their State. This was an unprecedented occurrence. It was changing. And like all changes, it would unavoidably shake the foundations of the vampire world.

Normally, a human was reduced to nothing but livestock. Lisa Tepes was the first human to climb in the ladder of power, due to her husband’s position in the vampire geopolitical world. The two Devil’s Forgemasters would follow, due to their intellect and magic. Morana wasn’t too fond of the idea a shift was happening in their stable and balanced vampire universe. Perhaps this shift was not preventable. Because she could not deny. Hector's had a lot of potentials.

As for Lenore, she bore a look of apprehension. Her eyes glinted sadly, fixed on the last place Hector had stood. Regret was plaguing her mind. Hector’s moment of victory was ruined because of her silly spat with Carmilla and then she topped it by scaring him off with her tone. What a turn of events. How unfair. Striga noticed her distressed look and was the first to speak.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Striga said. It was more a statement than a question. Lenore smiled gently while she nodded. She ignored Carmilla’s snort in the background.

“When did you pledge to him?” Morana wondered, successfully hiding her own concerns.

“The same night he pledged to me. After I brought you the rings.”

“That soon? Weren’t you a bit hasty?” Morana questioned in a mix of reapproval and concern.

“I was sure I wanted this, why wait?”

“Are you planning in turning him?” Was Striga’s turn to ask. “I’m not sure I like the idea of a dark magician becoming immortal.”

“Hector and I haven’t spoken about it yet. It was my intention to turn him eventually, but...” The redhead paused a moment, unable to hide her discomfort. “… I recently discovered he’ll lose his necromantic powers if he turns.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Carmilla asked shocked.

“Hector didn’t know it either. It was the Blacksmith magician who told him. It turns out, our old friend had been a Devil’s Forgemaster during his human existence.”

“You cannot turn him!” The queen of Styria urgently exclaimed. “God, Lenore. You really screwed up this time! We need his powers. We need his army of night creatures.”

“I agree with Carmilla. You’ll have to contend with the fact your time with him will be short.” Morana told Lenore with a grave expression. “If we want to build up an empire, we will need his full magical powers.”

“But most humans die between 40 and 50,” Lenore said in a choke.

She looked shocked at her three sisters. She had expected them to go against her wish in turning Hector into a vampire. But she hadn’t been prepared to be confronted with this amount of selfishness. Did they truly believe she would content herself in losing Hector because of their ambition? She chose him to be her life partner, someone she already deeply cared for. He was her ambition. Her new priority. And they were expecting her to sacrifice him for lands, power, and fame? She would not accept this. Having only 25 years when she could have eternity was an inconceivable idea. Yet, she kept her thoughts for herself. She was the diplomat, the peacemaker. She would first try to negotiate with her sisters. “Listen. If we manage to create an invincible army, one the humans won’t stand a chance, we’ll probably be able to conquer lands quite quickly. We might be able to build an empire in less than half a decade. You won’t need Hector’s powers once the frontiers are defined and protected.”

“Yeah, I suppose it’s possible to invade this territory in a matter of a few years. Still, we’ll need more than just a strong army. We also need the right weapon technology.” Striga pondered while looking at the map of Europe. “I wonder if our Alchemist Forgemaster is also familiar with gunpowder.”

“There’s a real chance he does,” Morana told in a thoughtful manner. “I suggest we have him present in tomorrow’s meeting too. We need to know what other knowledge and abilities he has in store.” Lenore and Striga immediately agreed, but the silver-haired vampire rolled her eyes in irritation, sensing the pivotal issue was being sidetracked.

“Still, we cannot guarantee we won’t need Hector’s forging powers after the war’s conclusion,” Carmilla warned, the idea of bringing the man to their vampire community disturbing her greatly. She would prevent it at all costs. “We’re not just going to release him once the war is over so he can have immortality!”

“Ladies, we are speculating about the future, which is unknown to us.” Morana intervened just in time because Lenore was already opening her mouth to protest. “I suggest we see how things develop and then decide when the moment comes.”

“Besides, Hector is still very young. If he keeps a healthy lifestyle, he can still be fit even in 10 years' time.” Striga told the redhead in a comforting manner, having witnessed the shock and distress in her eyes. Her strong and severe features became softened, a rare manifestation of caring only reserved to those she loved. “The main problem with humans is bad nutrition and lack of medicine. Don’t forget we possess a lot of knowledge that has been forgotten in the human world.”

“Yes, that is true,” Lenore said a bit more conformed and managed a weak smile. Striga’s looks could really fool anybody. Tall and muscular, normally wearing a stoic or severe expression. But deep down, the military had a kind heart and a gentleness the other two lacked.

Striga was right. Human lifespans were highly conditioned to their lifestyle and nutrition, which influenced greatly their health. The man was already living in a much more comfortable and safer environment than he would if he was in the human society. He was already eating a much more varied diet since he kept revealing his surprise every time she brought a vegetable or fruit not belonging to this season. Still, Lenore’s main priority was now the conclusion of this war as quickly as possible. Hector was young, but Lenore had decided he would not become older than 30. She was going to use this time to find solutions in winning this war in the shortest time possible. Perhaps, there was even a way of strengthening the army without the need for night creatures. This would be her new secret goal.

“Good. Now that Hector’s immortality issue has been settled, I would like you to show me that book you talked about earlier.” Carmilla told Lenore, waking her from her reveries.

“What book?” Morana asked curiously. The queen smirked spitefully before answering.

“Our dear Forgemaster killed the Blacksmith magician a couple of nights ago.” Carmilla purposely dropped the news carelessly. Morana and Striga both stared shocked and the redhead looked at the queen in disbelief. Carmilla could really be mean and implacable when she wanted. “Lenore, would you do me the honor of telling them why?”

“A Forgemaster has to kill somebody they hate in order to activate the magical forge instrument.” Lenore recited upset with the queen. If she would continue to push her buttons like this, Carmilla would earn another slap.

“I wish I had had that excuse last Christmas.” Striga sorrowfully commented, earning a glare from Morana.

“I hope that is true.” The dark-skinned vampire told Lenore with a severe look on her face. “Because this is very serious. We cannot have a human walking freely while killing vampires.”

“It is true. It is all written in a manuscript. It’s in Blacksmith magician’s forge.” Lenore told in an unwavering tone. “I suggest we go there now, so I can show it to you all.”

“Did Hector tell you about the book?” Morana inquired.

“No. I found it on one of the tables at the smithy. It was not as half-covered with dust and spiderwebs as the rest of the books, so I figured out he and Hector had used it during the making of the hammer.”

“You mean you investigated,” Morana concluded and Lenore only grimaced, not giving an answer.

“Seems our sister doesn’t trust her new husband entirely.” Striga knowingly said, sharing an accomplice glance with her lover.

“I believed him. But I knew you wouldn’t take his word for granted.” The redhead plainly said.

“Of course you did,” Carmilla spoke in her typical mischievous voice, to which Lenore chose to ignore.

“Did he tell you, he had to kill the old magician?” Morana asked, wanting to know all the details.

“No, he tried to hide it. That was the reason for our fight two days ago.” Lenore told calmly while the four exited the Council room. “He meanwhile has clarified everything and, as I told you, I confirmed its veracity.”

The other three sisters switched wary glances. The rulers paced regally across the large castle until they reached the smithy’s door. They entered the chaotic world of metal, iron, and copper objects. Lenore walked straight to the place where the old manuscript lay and presented it to the other vampires, opening it on the right page. They read its contents and all suspicions were lifted.

“Nevertheless, he still committed a crime.” Carmilla sternly declared, while giving the book back to Lenore. Her fingers were itchy for revenge and she wanted to see the human fool be punished, not so much because of the murder itself, but for selfish motives. For being a human winning a status he did not have the right to have, for coming in between her and Lenore, for outsmarting them all today. It was all very frustrating and humiliating and the queen of Styria would not rest until the man suffered.

“He did it because he had no choice. Do not forget you are the one that brought him because you needed your night creatures army.” Lenore serenely reminded. “You should have made sure he brought his working tools with him when you left Braille.”

“The hammer was in Dracula’s castle and it vanished because somebody tampered its magic. It was something unforeseen and unpreventable.”

“So was the murder. The book is clear about the magic rules. It had to be somebody he hated.” Lenore elaborated with a conviction for the queen’s growing irritation. “You should be grateful I put that ring on him and gave one to you too, otherwise you would have been the one turned into ashes.”

“You should have come up with a plan without resorting to fucking magic!” Carmilla spat almost childishly, not wanting to lose the discussion, but knowing she was sinking further and faster in defeat.

“Really, Carmilla?” Lenore said in a half giggle, demising the other vampire’s silly accusation. “If there is somebody that should have acted differently, it was you, at Braille. I’m convinced if you would have asked Hector nicely and negotiated reasonable conditions, he would have accepted this job because, ultimately, we are following exactly the plan Hector was striving for when he agreed to join you and betray Dracula.”

“Lenore is right, Carmilla,” Striga said. “I’ve told you before, beating the shit out of him was far from your wisest choices.”

“I needed to cow him! Make sure he would not dare to go against me and would obey me!” Carmilla agitatedly claimed, losing her temper by the minute. How could they not see the gravity of the situation? Hector was human. An inferior being whose life purpose was to be used by vampires. Point! Why were Striga and Morana agreeing with Lenore’s radical idea of treating him like one of their kind?

“The boy is a scholar, not a barbarian.” Morana retorted annoyed, her patience growing thinner. She was becoming tired of Carmilla’s stubbornness and persistence. The queen’s personal hatred for the man was standing in the way of her logic. She wasn’t thinking properly anymore. “I hate to admit this, but he is more civilized and well-educated than some vampires.”

“Besides, obedience by fear is only a temporary solution. It always leads to hatred and revolt.” Striga added wisely. “You made a mistake in Brailla and the Blacksmith’s death was the indirect consequence of it. Not that I care. I’m just sorry I was not the one that killed him.”

“What is this? A fucking human murders a vampire and I am the one being blamed?” Carmilla questioned outraged.

“Ladies, Please. Pointing fingers at each other will not bring us anywhere.” Lenore gently spoke. She looked beautifully serene and sweet, but from the inside, she was devilishly smirking from pure delightful triumph. This was the moment to put a conclusion to this topic’s discussion. She had reached her goal. Striga and Morana were on her side, Carmilla was outnumbered and had lost all her credibility in this matter. Hector was finally safe from his murder accusations. “Nobody can see the future, just like the past cannot be undone. The murder was an unfortunate necessity. Hector is not going about the castle mindlessly killing vampires. He is right now in his forge creating soldiers for Styria’s army. So, let’s drop the matter and focus on the future.”

“Agreed,” Striga said and Morana nodded in accordance. Carmilla looked from one to the other and sighed heavily. As upset as she was, the queen knew to recognize when she was defeated.

“All right. We’ll forgive Hector’s crime.” The silver-haired vampire reluctantly declared for Lenore’s relief and joy. “But if he ever crosses the line…”

“Then we’ll deal with it accordingly,” Morana assured, having enough of Carmilla’s continuous insistence.

Morana’s words brought an end to their feud. Now that everything was clarified and they had reached a consensus, the women could focus on their ambitions. Hector’s atypical role in the Council had shaken their world with violence. It had been a major earthquake to their vampire mentality, to their convictions, and to their views. But tolerance and cooperation assured the Council’s harmonious stability. The four pillars had not crumbled, and the sisters strived in their democratic system.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad I watched «Game of Thrones», don't think I would have managed to write this chapter without its influence.
> 
> Greek Fire is a real thing. It was originally called "Sea Fire" (that's why Hector refers's as such), but because it was a weapon invented by the Greek, it became known as "Greek Fire". It's today's one of the mysteries of the ancient world, since academici still don't know for 100% the recipe. Also the inspiration of Wild Fire at Game of Thrones :))
> 
> I sought information about life expectancy and in 1476, most noble men died between 48 and 52, related with nutrition and medicine. Peasants, mainly farmers, died around 30, same reasons, but mainly, because of a lifetime of long hours of heavy physical work! Of course there were expections and some people reached as far as 70 or more, but it was quite rare.


	10. Revolution of ideas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> Writer: Darktragicangel
> 
> Beta:Shadowking514
> 
> I appologize for the wait. It took me longer to finish this chapter, had quite a busy week and little time to write.
> 
> Again, I struggled with this chapter, just like the previous two, but I'm happy with the final result. Hopefully, you will too. I'm praying that from here onwards the story will flow easier in my mind again. 
> 
> Anyway, I will try to continue updating weekly, but if it takes longer, please do not worry. It's because I'm lacking time and/or inspiration.  
> I only post when I am absolutely satisfied with the chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy the reading!

The four vampire rulers exited the cluttered smithy. Each headed to their own private quarters. While watching her sisters take different directions in the castle, Lenore was invaded by an odd feeling. It felt like they were all, in reality, taking separate paths in their individual lives. The vampire girl walked alone in a silenced castle. The only sound perturbing the quietness was the soft hollow echo of heels meeting the barren granite floor. The strange sensation taunted in her solitude and in its persistence. Strolling with this disquieting thought in her mind, she took the gallery that leads to the castle’s main kitchens, like she had been doing lately, every early morning.

Lenore reached a large hall and stopped. This was a central area in the building, the castle’s main intersection. Lenore’s heartbeat a bit harder. The strange uneasy feeling became stronger and more palpable. She quietly turned around on herself, her eyes meeting the various corridors and stairways that linked the hall to all the different parts of the castle. Lenore was standing in the middle of this central junction, which suddenly transcended the physical plane. It was like she was standing in a crucial crossroads of something else. Something much more profound and meaningful. Feeling slightly lightheaded by the bizarre sensation, Lenore took one step forwards. For the first time, she felt she was following a road which was sole of her own choosing. She proceeded her way, plagued by this uncanny feeling.

Lenore shook the weird feeling away when her nose picked the delicious scent of aromatic cooking and entered the kitchens. She was warmly welcomed by the staff, who were getting used to her routine visits. One of the chefs gave her wicker basket and mentioned carefreely she was later than usual. The small comment immediately brought her thoughts to Hector. He would be wondering why she was late and decided to make haste. It didn’t take long before she was on the human’s doorstep. The vampire girl called while stepping inside the house, cheerfully announcing her arrival. She thought it odd she was answered with absolute silence, but quickly found the reason why.

Lenore smiled sweetly while leaning on the living room’s doorway. She found Hector laying on his back on the couch, completely fast asleep. His arm was covering most of his face and his hair was damp, the soap’s floral scent still in the air. She remained a while watching his chest rise and fall in a peaceful and rhythmic manner. She could only imagine how exhausted he must have been after such a trying day. It had been quite challenging for her too.

Today history had been made. A human, an inconspicuous creature to the vampire universe, outsmarted four experienced leaders. He shook the foundations of their stable and well-defined political structure. Today, restless energy had fluctuated around Styria’s four rulers. Their world was on the verge of an important shift.

The earlier strange sensation returned fully. But seeing Hector, peacefully asleep and unaware of his impact in her world; Lenore finally understood what her mind had been trying to tell her. Somehow and accidentally, she picked up Dracula’s legacy. Not his mad war in destroying humanity. No. An older heritage from a time when his heart was happy. From a time when Lisa Tepes was alive.

Dracula had been the first vampire in history to marry a human without ever turning her. His decision in being married for two decades with a mortal woman and never turning her was a secret he took to his grave and would remain a mystery forever. It had been a daring bold act. One could even say unwise, dangerous, crazy. Not only he defied all vampire customs and ways, but he demanded his vassals and subordinates to treat Lisa Tepes with the same respect and reverence she would have received as a vampire. It was an inconceivable idea. Ludicrous. The vampire community was outraged. Dracula’s human wife enjoyed an envious powerful and influential position, unachievable to any vampire. She was Dracula’s equal.

Lenore realized, she and her sisters were in the process of doing the exact same thing with Hector. It would have been considered normality if she had decided to keep him as a pet. It wouldn’t have been a great deal if the human would be turned short after their pledges. The redhead had carefully weighed her options and projected the consequences in the long term. But she never calculated the one variable that demanded the preservation of Hector’s mortality. And this changed everything.

If Hector continued proving her sisters he’s an asset, a valuable ally and an essential member to the Council, he’ll be seen frequenting the meetings more often. There will come a point when it will be impossible to deny his active participation in matters of the State. Gossips were, undeniably, already going around the castle about Lenore’s affair with a human smith. Lords and vassals from Styria’s court would never approve a human to bear a leading position in the Council. It was a matter of time for the first protests to rise. Lenore foresaw turbulent times ahead. And was already finding ways to handle them.

Lenore was a master in the arts of diplomacy and peacemaking. Above all, she had the ability to read people. She knew which groups were conservative and purists in Styria’s court, just like those who were tolerant and open-minded. The vampire girl had already a plan in germinating discussions to convince even the most stubborn vampires about the common grounds between the two species. She would present Hector as the example of a civilized, well-educated, and knowledgeable human. Just like Lisa Tepes, he would be the proof humans were as fitting as vampires in holding a position of power.

Lenore couldn’t help but think this had been Lisa Tepe’s true dream. To bring the vampire and human worlds closer together. To connect them through knowledge and wisdom, proving both species weren’t that far apart as everybody thought. That vampires weren’t bloodthirsty monsters and humans weren’t barbarous idiots. This had never been her goal and yet, it was happening. Unintentionally, Lenore picked up the Vampire Lord’s work from before his wife’s death and was giving continuation to it.

She was starting a revolution of ideas.

The vampire’s musings were interrupted by a movement. Hector’s arm shifted from his face and searched for support, but instead found a vacuum. So, it rested on his belly. There were a sigh and a twitch from his left foot. And then he moved. His body was tired of laying in the same position. Lenore only had time to widen her eyes, when the man turned to the side. A short free fall followed and the Forgemaster hit the ground with a thud. The redhead’s hand traveled to her mouth as a reaction. Hector instantly woke up, sitting up straight, startled, with wide confused eyes. He looked stupidly at the couch and then his ears picked a crystalline laughter.

Lenore was bent over, her hands pressing her belly, while tears ran down her face from the laughing fit. The man stared at her for a moment still confused, then an amused smile crawled up to his lips until he chuckled, finally understanding the humorous situation he was in. The snickering redhead paced towards the man, her whole body shaking from the little ripples of giggles and gave a hand to help her drowsy husband to stand up. They laughed together for a while longer. When Lenore was finally calming down and breathing properly, Hector cupped her face on his hands and kissed her lips soft and sweetly. The redhead felt the air leave her lungs and her whole face warmed up. The gesture had surprised her, just like the amount of tenderness it carried. They looked at each other and Lenore melted at the lovely expression on his precious aquamarine orbs and his gentle smile. This was the first time Lenore had read true happiness in Hector’s eyes. His hands moved from her face to the small of her back and he pushed her close to his chest, in a warm embrace.

“Welcome home.” He whispered happily, glad to see Lenore unharmed.

…

“I don’t have to come to all your meetings, do I?” Hector asked apprehensive, while he and Lenore climbed the castle’s main stairway, heading to the Council room.

When Lenore had announced proudly, during their morning’s meal; her sisters had voted for his participation in today’s Council, she had expected Hector to be excited. Instead, his face tensed completely. It had been like a shadow of anxiety immediately hovered on the man. Lenore had hoped it was only tiredness playing a role in his stress, but after a good day rest, the Forgemaster’s feelings about the meeting were still the same. The vampire girl knew she should have expected this. The man was no fool. Like everybody else, he knew he would not win his respect from the rulers with one single intervention, as excellent as it may have been. Hector knew this was something that required a lot of energy because convincing the three vampires he was a trustworthy and competent ally was a great challenge.

“I’ve told you already, only when we think it’s necessary. Besides, you don’t need to be so nervous.” Lenore kindly reassured, but the man grimaced worriedly. “You did great yesterday.”

“Yeah. I was inspired yesterday.” He told with a proud smile, which vanished as quickly as it came, and the concerned frown on his brow returned. “What if I make a blunder today?”

“You won’t.” The redhead assured, her small hand reaching for his. “Don’t let yourself be intimidated.”

“It’s easy for you to say. You don’t have the pressure weighing over you.” He said, his tone absent of any form of complaint. It was a simple truthful statement. “I don’t have the luxury to fail. The smallest mistake will be my downfall.”

“So dramatic.” Lenore quipped carefreely but she understood perfectly what he meant and knew he was right.

“Really, Lenore? You really believe I’m exaggerating?” He questioned, the concern in his look worsening, insecurity invading his confidence. The vampire girl stopped walking and so did the man. He looked at her expectantly, wanting to hear he was wrong, even though he knew it to be a lie.

“No, Hector. I do not think you are exaggerating.” Lenore admitted and she gave a compassionate look at the lost expression on his face. It was incredible how a man with his height, with his muscular body, with his normally powerful stance, could sometimes look this fragile. “It is true you have to prove yourself more than anybody else. I know it’s not fair you are being scrutinized, evaluated, and judged because of your human condition. But you have the abilities and skills none of us have. These are your strong points, your advantage. Use them wisely and you will strive. You already managed to impress Morana and Striga yesterday.”

“What about Carmilla?” He curiously asked.

“She too knows there’s more in you than she wants to admit. There is a reason she chose you instead of Isaac.”

“I was easy to fool. Isaac would have never permitted himself to be tricked like me.” Hector remorsefully acknowledged.

“Yes, there is a truth to that.” Lenore blatantly agreed and started pacing again. Hector looked at her annoyed, thinking she could at least have pretended to think otherwise. He followed her and walked next to the vampire. “Still, Carmilla agreed way too quickly, when I demanded you to become the fifth member in the Council. She didn’t even protest, which is very atypical from her. I had expected her to give at least some resistance.”

“Maybe she was in a good mood because of you guaranteeing my loyalty through the rings.” He suggested while he looked at the red and black metal around his finger.

“No.,” Lenore said in a serious and thoughtful tone. “She knows there is more to you than meets the eye.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, and forgive me for what I am about to say – You are 24 years old and are still unbelievably naïve and innocent...”

“The Hell?” Hector exclaimed offended; an eyebrow arched. Lenore stopped again and turned to face the man, holding his hands in hers. She grinned at his defensive wary look.

“On the other side, you seem to have a kind of wisdom that goes beyond your years.”

“Okay. You know that makes no sense at all.” Hector claimed deadpanned.

“Indeed, it doesn’t. And yet, it’s the truth.” She told while she brushed a silver strand away from his beautiful eyes, shining blue in the shadows. Lenore took a good look at the man and she could sense him lifting his defensive walls, as soon as he realized she was studying him and trying to bore into his soul.

Hector was an adult still growing up. His gullibility was childlike, making him easy prey to ill-intentioned people, making him an easy target to be lied to. But then, he had a kind of tolerance, and understanding, and patience that normally required quite some decades of experience. Hector’s view on the working of society could be as basic and idealistic as a child’s world concept; but his insight in complex systems - whether they were philosophical, military or political, were quite impressive.

Lenore was convinced Hector had been, in some aspects of his life, forced to grow up faster than other kids, while other facets were sacrificed and neglected, bringing an unbalance in his development into adulthood. She wished he would open up to her about his past, but knew to give him the needed space. It was not like she was sharing hers with him either. She would not force anything, confident they would talk about their pasts when the moment was ripe. “Anyway, you have the right resources to benefit the Council. Intervene when you are confident about something and, above all, just be yourself.” Lenore finalized her train of thoughts and Hector sighed, forcefully conforming with her advice. They resumed their way.

“I don’t understand why Carmilla repudiates me so much. I never did anything bad to her. If anything, I was the only person who was remotely kind to her at Dracula’s court.” Hector told Lenore while they continued climbing the endless stairs. “Nobody liked her. Well, with the exception of Godbrand, but that was because he wanted to have sex with her. He kept bragging of how he would dominate Carmilla with his irresistible charm and make her moan against the stone walls.”

“Disgusting.” Lenore commented with an appalled expression, the memory of a few unhappy meetings with the Viking vampire returning to her mind.

“Yeah, nobody bought it, of course. You should have seen his face when I told him she would slice him in two if he tried.” Hector said in a chuckle.

“And that is exactly what I would have done if that idiot had tried anything.” Carmilla’s voice was heard right behind Hector and Lenore, to which the Forgemaster flinched with a start.

“Shit! Where did you come from?” Hector said in the midst of his fright, having not noticed her scent.

“I teleported, of course.” The queen casually said.

“Fucking vampire witch, almost gave me a heart attack.” He muttered to himself, his right hand pressed on his chest. Carmilla grinned amused, while Lenore stifled a chuckle. They were practically at their destiny and walked the last steps together in silence. When they entered the Council room, Morana and Striga were already seated.

“You are late.” Morana said in a stern tone and Carmilla grinned naughtily.

“You are early.” The silver-haired woman retributed the reprimanding comment playfully. Meanwhile, Lenore walked to the glass cabined to serve herself a goblet of blood.

“Want a drink too, Hector?” Lenore asked while she poured the red liquid in her glass.

“No, thank you.” He dismissed with a clearly disgusted tone.

“Silly. We have wine.” The redhead said with a chuckle, already holding an empty glass.

“I’m not drinking wine while I’m working.” He bluntly said and Lenore turned to look at him, one hand holding the empty goblet, the other the wine jar.

“Just a little bit.” She seductively suggested.

“No!” He insisted a bit harsher than he intended.

“It will help you loosen up.” She insisted while she poured the liquid in the glass.

“I don’t want to loosen up.” He told and refused the cup when presented to him. “Drink it yourself.” Lenore stared at him and pouted, so he shook his head, strengthening his point. The vampire sighed and then poked his cheek once.

“Have it your way, then.” She cheerfully said, feeling victorious at the movement he always made with his jaw, when he was slightly annoyed.

They sat down, next to each other and Lenore stubbornly placed the goblet of wine next to the man. He looked at it, arched an eyebrow, and quietly slid the glass in Lenore’s direction. The vampire failed in hiding an impish grin and slid it back to Hector. The Forgemaster stared a moment at the goblet, sighed while rolling his eyes and crossed his arms on his chest, choosing to ignore the drink and Lenore’s childish game.

The other three vampires had observed the short and somewhat comical interaction silently. This was the first time the couple displayed behavior that revealed how both were at ease with each other. There had been nothing of the extraordinary, Lenore was just teasing Hector and he accepted it naturally. Nevertheless, the three sisters had the sensation they had witnessed a sincere display of intimacy and complicity between the two. It was the first time they viewed Hector and Lenore as a married couple and not a mistress and her pet slave.

“Is everything okay?” Lenore asked surprised, noticing the odd looks on the women's faces, to which they all answered affirmatively too quickly, awkward and nervous for having stared at the pair. Lenore and Hector exchanged confused glances and the human shook his shoulders once, looking clueless. Striga tried to hide her discomfort by clearing her throat and opening the discussion.

“We need to know what kind of weaponry and military technology we are using in the invasions.” She turned to face Hector and immediately, his focus was directed at the military woman. “Which methods of deployment were you thinking in using for the Greek fire attack in Odesa?”

“Ceramic grenades.” Hector immediately answered, relieved this was an easy topic for him. He sensed Lenore’s knee touch his and looked at her. He forcefully ignored the teasing blink the redhead gave him because he almost cracked a smile, something nobody missed. “It’s the safest and most practical way to transport them. Demons can fly for days tirelessly and carry them from here to Odesa, once the green light is given.”

“You mean to make Greek fire only before an attack? Is it not wiser to have a storage of it?” Carmilla asked surprised.

“You want to risk a fire in the castle?” Striga answered instead, an eyebrow arched. “Greek Fire is not like regular fire. It has to be implemented carefully, otherwise, it can break out of control and you can say goodbye to our home.” Hector nodded while the vampire explained, a look of awkwardness plastered on his face. “I suggest we rebuild a couple more of the old outbuildings for safety. Best keep its production isolated from the main building. Same for the gunpowder. You can make gunpowder, right?” She asked Hector.

“Yes.” The Devil’s Forgemaster confirmed. “It’s crucial to calculate the needed amounts for the Greek Fire, and where to drop them. To prevent you from conquering a ruined city.” Hector advised, backing Striga’s earlier argument about the fire’s danger.

“Of course. We’ll have a cartographer analyze the city’s dimensions thoroughly.” Morana assured, to which the man nodded. “I suppose the night creatures will ignite the grenades?”

“Yes.” He confirmed.

“How familiar are you with cannon’s engineering?” Striga inquired, wishing to make as much use of the man’s capacities as possible. The fewer people she had involved in their war project, the best.

“It’s not really my area. I’ve seen some cannons from the Ottomans. I’ve seen how their propelling functions work, but I’m not able to build one from scratch. You’ll need a military engineer for that.” Hector told in full honesty. “But I can help with the calculations of velocity, angle, and initial height to find out the wanted trajectory formula needed to define the cannon’s shape.” He suggested to which the four vampires stared at him oblivious. Even Striga was astray with the man’s specific terminology.

“You mean you can calculate…” Striga started, hoping he understood her real question and would fill in the blanks.

“How heavy, how high, how deep a cannon needs to be to fire a certain distance. And the requited amount of gunfire, of course.” He elaborated casually, a clear demonstration of how comfortable he felt in the topic. The man sounded like he was talking about lt like it was the most normal thing in the world. Striga and Morana switched surprised glances, while Carmilla was staring at the man with an analytical look.

“I’ll get our best engineer to contact you personally, so you can figure out the calculations.” The queen spoke for the first time, in such a businesslike tone, it gave no space for discussion. The other three sisters were genuinely surprised. Hector too was taken aback by what he had just heard. He wondered if the woman really trusted his mathematic abilities or she was planning some kind of trap to make him fail miserably. The queen of Styria turned to face her sisters. “Morana, look into the geography of Odesa and the other cities we are invading. Striga, please investigate the geopolitical status of our demarked area. We need to know who are our potential enemies are and if we should crush them or turn them into our allies. Lenore, you’ll delegate with them accordingly.”

“Do you want me to contact our current allies too?” Lenore asked, feeling a bit lost at Carmilla’s behavior. She sensed something was off.

“Not yet. Let us draw all details first. - Hector, puppy. We are done for today. Go forge your demons.” Carmilla said without looking at the man, her eyes instead fixed on one of the charts; while making a shooing gesture with her right hand. Morana and Striga stared confused at their queen. She had been so abrupt and obvious in wanting to get rid of the man as quickly as possible that they were sure she was doing this on purpose. Lenore had the same suspicion and looked upset at her sister, wondering the motivation behind her sudden rush. As for Hector, he was bitterly swallowing the “puppy” insult along with the demeaning gesture. He was about to stand up and reluctantly obey the command, but Lenore quickly put her hand on his arm, signing him to remain seated.

“Don’t you want to check first if nobody else has questions for Hector?” Lenore asked in a neutral tone. Her real intention was to study Carmilla’s reaction. The queen lifted her head a bit surprised and then looked from Lenore to Striga and Morana. There was a hint of embarrassment in her face, which the redhead didn’t miss.

“Do you have more questions for him?” She asked the other two vampires.

“No, I’m fine.” Morana told, but Striga turned to face the man.

“Is it okay if I visit you one of these days in your Forge? There are still some minor details about the substances you are to produce I would like to discuss.”

“Striga, by all means, you can do it right now.” Carmilla told, a note of guilty awkwardness reaching her voice.

“It’s okay. It’s not something relevant for this meeting, it would only bore you all.” Striga calmly dismissed. “Besides, I would like to see him forge those monsters he’s sending to our army.” She added and turned to Hector, reminding him of her earlier question.

“Of course. Whenever you want.”

“Thank you.” The tall woman responded with honest appreciation.

“Well, if it’s all, then – yeah, I’ll be on my way.” Hector hesitantly said looking at the three women. Striga and Morana nodded, but Carmilla turned her face childishly, not wanting to look at him. His eyes shrunk in annoyance, but he chose to not make a deal of it. Instead, he faced Lenore and saw her staring darkly at the queen. He could imagine she was wishing to slap the woman another time. “Lenore?”

“…Uh? Oh, yes. Of course. See you later.” Lenore quickly said in a sweet voice, the man’s voice shaking her up from her murderous stare on Carmilla. The man stood up and walked to the door. “And behave yourself.” She teasingly added before he exited the room.

“Yeah, right.” He sarcastically answered with a chuckle, without turning to look at her, but lifted his hand in a wave.

Lenore watched him disappear behind the door with an amused grin plastered on her face. She turned her head to look at Carmilla. The smile instantly died away, her face gaining a rare severe expression. The queen of Styria was going to have to give her some answers.


	11. Sisters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> Writer: Draktagicangel
> 
> Beta: Shadowking514

Carmilla lifted her head and her eyes fixed themselves on the doorway Hector had just walked through. Her expression was hard to read, something between pensive and apprehensive. Morana switched quick glances with Striga and Lenore. The first had a glint of curiosity in her bright green orbs, while the latter had a scrutinizing observant look.

“I’m not sure it’s a wise thing to have him on our Council.” Carmilla said out of the blue, her voice leveled, sounding even a bit distracted. Her eyes were still on the vacant doorway, her look distant and somewhat absent. The three sisters stared at her genuinely surprised. Even Lenore forgot about her irritation for a moment.

“Is everything all right, Carmilla?” Morana asked, wondering why the queen was acting so strangely. The queen of Styria blinked her eyes twice, like if she had just woken up from a daydream. The woman seemed to remember where she was and turned to look at the dark-skinned vampire.

“Dracula was the only vampire to include humans in his War Council, giving them leading positions. It didn’t sit well with the other generals.” The silver-haired woman explained and Lenore stifled a nervous gasp. Of course Carmilla had already thought about the impact and consequences of Hector’s role in their Council. It was true, the woman easily got distracted by her “genius burden”, but she would also regain her sharpness with equal ease. “If we want to lead a successful war, we need everybody’s support. From our court, our generals, our vassals. They won’t appreciate if we give the Forgemaster more protagonism than them.”

“They are our subordinates. They will do as it is told to them.” Striga plainly stated.

“They can rise up against us and attempt a coup.” Carmilla warned. “I wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”

“We dealt with it accordingly in the past. We will again, if needed. They know better than to defy us.” Striga told in her unwavering manner.

“That was different!” The queen insisted, starting to feel annoyed by the military’s one-way point of view, and that was the warrior’s one.

“I don’t see how.” The tall amazon vampire commented impatient, while crossing her arms. Morana rested her hand on Striga’s, to mellow her, before talking.

“In the past it was because our enemies didn’t accept four women holding absolute power. There are still male vampires in our court unhappy with this. Carmilla is afraid of our court’s reaction if we add a male from the human species to our exclusive regime.” The dark-skinned vampire serenely formulated.

“They will consider it the greatest insult possible.” Lenore concluded. To her, Carmilla’s reasoning was the confirmation the queen believed in Hector’s capacities. The redhead seized the opportunity. “We’ll have to suppress those who can be a threat to us and convince the rest Hector is a wise addition to our Council. You do agree his participation on the war’s strategy is advantageous, don’t you, Carmilla? That is why you didn’t protest when I proposed he should attend some of our meetings.” Lenore spoke in her smooth negotiating tone and the silver-haired woman grimaced annoyed. Striga and Morana both looked at their queen intrigued.

“You mean you _demanded._ ” Carmilla corrected wisely and Lenore smiled the woman’s astuteness. “But yes. The human bastard has a good set of brains.” The woman admitted reluctantly for Lenore’s glee.

“How were the humans in Dracula’s War Council?” Morana asked, interested in knowing why Carmilla was willing to sacrifice her vampire pride, when she clearly despised the man for his humanity.

“Hector and Isaac worked truly as a team. They weren’t friends, though. They simply respected each other as colleagues.” Carmilla told, while she jogged her memory to a couple months prior. It felt so much longer. “Isaac voiced Dracula’s intent, his motivation and will in killing all humans in an extremely irritating unwavering manner. If it was up to him, the war would be directed to a full chaotic destructive scale. Hector, on the other side, was the conductor of Dracula’s fury. He viewed the war from a more rational viewpoint, steering it with organized strategies, calculating attacks to minimize damage in Dracula’s army. He aimed for a quick and clean war. But he was too passive and would not step into action without being driven by others.”

“He’s a follower with leading skills.” Morana concluded, understanding Hector’s true but unexploited potential.

“He’s still such a child!” Carmilla said in an exasperated manner, remembering his shocked expression when she gave him the children-men speech; just like his pathetic realization he had betrayed Dracula and, involuntarily, contributed to his death. “Still, the boy can be a clever strategist when he wants. Lenore, how far do your loyalty rings powers go?”

“What do you mean?”

“Can he betray us with something as small and undetectable as a tiny error in his calculations, but enough to damage our invasion plan?”

“I do not believe he can.” Lenore answered, a bit perplexed by Carmilla’s question. Could it be the queen was afraid he would try to take revenge by sabotaging the war? “If he would make a mistake with ill-purpose, even an undetectable one, I’m sure the magic’s ring would ignite. The magic reacts to the intention, not the act itself. And, honestly, I don’t see Hector taking the risk in doing something that stupid.”

“And you are forgetting all those details must pass through me before approval.” Morana reminded with a knowing grin. Carmilla smiled, looking visibly relieved.

“Yes, you do always double check everything.” The silver-haired woman stated, thankful for the dark-haired vampire’s disciplined conducts.

“Does this mean we are agreeing in inviting Hector to participate more often in the Council?” Lenore asked without even trying to conceal her hopefulness to the queen’s irritation. Carmilla turned to Morana, thinking she was the fittest Council’s member to make this decision.

“Would you want that, Morana?”

“Yes. But only to give assistance to the more technical matters of the war like these past two days. I prefer not to involve him too much in our political decisions.” The quartet’s organizer told, opting for a prudent route. The truth was, Morana preferred to keep the Council’s dynamic intact. She admitted, a fifth party could be refreshing in moments of impasse, like the situation of Odesa, but involving Hector in their rule felt unwise. “Do you Ladies agree?”

“It’s fine by me.” Striga told without any ceremonies.

“Yes, I do believe it’s the wisest approach for now. We can always see how he does in the future.” Lenore spoke relaxed, feeling a weight lifted from her shoulders.

This was the best compromise she could wish for. By giving more responsibilities to Hector, he would gain more rights and respect from her sisters. Also, Hector’s occasional contribution to the Council would give him enough space to adapt to their politics. Lenore was certain this was the safest approach for everybody. Even if Hector’s contributions were valuable, he would remain lowkey, meaning his influence in the Council wouldn’t be relevant enough for members of the court to voice against him. Finally, Styria’s vampires would also receive the needed time to get used to the presence and contribution of a human in their world. If Hector was to rise in power, it was preferable to do it gradually. The redhead still expected protests, but they would be weak enough for her to find ways to easily deal with them. “Besides, I’m sure Hector prefers it this way too.”

“Does he get nervous, coming here to play general with us?” Carmilla asked with a teasing tone and Lenore grinned, knowing her words were not ill-intended.

“He does. He’s still adapting to this whole new reality. And he still has a lot to learn.” The redhead admitted. “But you should know, his inexperience is probably our greatest advantage. It allows us to shape him so he will fit best for our purposes.”

“Ah, there is our clever little sister! Glad you finally came out from your hiding place.” Carmilla said with a playful smile on her lips, her index pointing teasingly at the vampire girl. Morana and Striga both chuckled, the characteristic carefreeness from their reunions finally having returned.

“You know me well for getting the most profit from all situations.” Lenore said in a fake nonchalant manner, going along with Carmilla’s lighthearted mood. “Hector is much more than a pretty face and a hot chiseled body.” She added, while biting her underlip excited, her temperature rising in fever only at the recollection of the human’s touch.

“And we lost her again.” Striga said with an unfortunate tone, watching the way the youngest vampire clasped her hands together against her chest and stared at the ceiling with the dreamiest expression she could wear. “If we are ready for today, I’ll take my leave now.”

“Me too. I’ll start looking at the cities’ plans right away.” Morana spoke while standing up and rolling up the maps. “Let’s leave before she starts going in details.” The dark-skinned woman whispered to her lover, while giving a side glance at Lenore. The redhead was giving her a devilish grin. The two women left the room with a bit more haste than normal.

“You scared them away, you tart.” Carmilla said in an amused giggle.

“I can’t help they are uncomfortable with my openness about my heterosexuality.” The redhead teased back and both women laughed along for a while. Carmilla’s eyes lingered on Lenore for a little longer than needed and the redhead could read the rare expression of love in the woman’s blue gaze that was only reserved to her and the women that had just left the room.

“Join me for a glass of wine?”

“Why not? I still have Hector’s untouched glass.” The youngest vampire said in a chuckle while encircling her fingers around the goblet’s stem. Carmilla nodded pleased and walked to the cabinet to serve herself a chalice of wine. She sat opposite Lenore and lifted her glass, a gesture reflected by the redhead.

“To our empire.” Carmilla said in a victorious whisper.

“To our empire.” Lenore repeated, a soft smile on her lips. Both women took a sip of their drinks and a short pause followed. Carmilla released a sigh of delight.

“It’s has been quite a while, since the last time we sat alone like this.” The silver-haired vampire commented, a slight nostalgia in her undertone. “I had expected us to spend more time together after my return.”

“I’ve been quite busy the past month, doing damage control. You know, because of a certain queen’s actions at Brailla.” The redhead retorted in a carefree manner, while she turned the red liquid inside her glass. Carmilla snorted at her comment.

“You mean flirting around with a human boy.” Lenore understood the little accusation behind the woman’s playfulness and wondered to what point Carmilla was jealous for her investing more time on Hector than her big sister.

“Hector is loyal to you, is he not? Or did you have a different method in mind?” The redhead asked before of taking another sip of her wine.

“Oh, I did have a different method in mind. Subdue the little shit with torture.” The queen told darkly, her clawed right hand closing into a fist. Lenore, who was feeling quite relaxed up to then, completely tensed as she felt her patience be tested. She placed the half full glass on the table, pressed her back against the chair and crossed her legs.

“Please, Carmilla. A little respect for my husband.” The girl coolly reprimanded and the other vampire made an expression between grinning and grimacing. “You know, that is exactly the reason why I had to «fix» Hector. Have you not learned anything from your mistake?”

“My dear, beating Hector was not a mistake. It was a necessity.”

“Tell me, did Hector ever display any kind of violent tendencies towards you before Brailla?” Lenore questioned to which the silver-haired vampire sighed annoyed.

“No.”

“Did he try to attack you after he realized you made him betray Dracula?”

“No.”

“So, how was it a necessity?”

“I knew he would refuse to come to Styria. So, I had to subdue him before he would attempt to resist.” The queen insisted, unable to understand why the redhead kept defending that human disgraceful idiot.

“Thus, you attacked in advance, preventing from being attacked first, when it was a possibility and not a certainty. Carmilla, how many times have I told you? You cannot solve everything by violence.” Lenore told in a calm manner, hoping to drill some sense in her sister’s stubborn head.

“Why not? I prevented his resistance and cowed him. He didn’t protest a word afterwards and marched to Styria like the good obedient puppy he is.” The queen said with a malicious smirk and brought the wine chalice to her lips. Lenore felt disgusted by the manner her sister insisted in insulting the man. She knew Carmilla was doing it only to push her buttons, she decided, this time, not to make a big deal of it.

“You do realize you brought a dark sorcerer into the castle, without even knowing the extent of his powers? He arrived here immersed in rage, with a very personal loathing and vendetta towards you and anybody associated to you. Do you not see the danger you put us all in?” The redhead could feel her patience become thinner at Carmilla’s childish reaction in snorting and rolling her eyes. “I have no idea how strong his magical powers are, but I did have a little taste of his ire and determination when he was weak and hungry.”

“Yet, you solved his little attack with violence too.” Carmilla told in an ironic chuckle. Her cold blue eyes shrunk in a catlike triumphant look, while her index pointed accusingly at the vampire girl. Lenore raised an eyebrow, finding the claim rather frivolous.

“That was nothing compared to what you did. You attacked him out of the blue. The man had just helped you invade Dracula’s castle and as retribution, you beat him till he almost lost his senses. The only thing he understood was that you used him and aimed to continue using him, this time, as a slave.” Lenore calmly elaborated, knowing she needed to make Carmilla see where she was wrong and that, sometimes, the use of violence was counterproductive. “The only time I hit him, was after he threatened to break my throat. I was in my right to defend myself, but also to show him he was no match for my physical strength. Hector understood attacking me was a lost fight. He gave up resisting through force and instead opted for the diplomatic approach, which I had offered, before he attacked me. These are two completely separate and distinct situations.”

“You do not need to get all worked up, Lenore.” Carmilla said while pursing her lips, a tactic she often used to ridicule and demean the other, when she knew she was losing an argument.

“I’m not getting worked up. I’m simply telling you violence is not the solution for everything.” Lenore remained in her unbreakable diplomatic and relaxed register, while from the inside, she was starting to burn from irritation. “Stop having this need of displaying your power. You are the queen of Styria. The most powerful person of the region. Your title should be enough to intimidate your enemies. You do not need to resort to brutality, torture and intimidation to display power. Because it causes more than just fear. It causes anger and revolt. Power through oppression always backfires, sooner or later.”

“Diplomacy can also be interpreted as sign of weakness.” The queen of Styria said in a bored tone, staring at the little wine left at the bottom of her glass.

“Hector thought that too. He underestimated me and ended up licking his wounds for several days. It is this mentality that, apparently both humans and vampires share, keeps the world in this never-ending spiral of violence.” The redhead retorted. Carmilla’s eyebrows pressed in a disapproving manner when the girl implied, she and Hector thought in the say way. “Don’t you see, Carmilla? Diplomacy is the true demonstration of a sovereign’s power. You can only be diplomatic when you are strong enough to not have the need of attacking others. You can be more intimidating by displaying an unwavering confidence than by showing off a whole army. It takes a strong leader to rule with kindness and cooperation, achieving your goals through compromise other than by force. You’ll gain respect, trust, loyalty and admiration. But, if anybody tries to go against you, to betray or attempt an attack, then you are entitled to use violence. A strong army can also be used as a back-up. Learn to moderate your violence and use it in the right timing.”

There was a small pause and Carmilla understood their conversation had shifted from her use of brutality on Hector to a more political broad sphere. It were moments like this, when the politician in Lenore shined the most, that the queen was reminded of the reason she chose to bring the girl to Styria. The redhead’s intelligence and insight never stopped surprising her. It was impossible not to feel admiration and pride for the girl.

“You are truly a brilliant politician. It’s a pity your talents were never recognized when you were human.” The silver-haired woman sincerely told and Lenore finally felt herself relax a bit.

“Well, it is a man’s world, out there. Unfortunately, not entirely restricted to the human society.” Lenore told with a shake of her shoulders. The truth was, even though women were increasingly attaining more positions of leadership in the vampire society; they continued being a minority. Most vampire houses and kingdoms were ruled by men or a powerful couple like Raman and Sharma from Calcutta. Cho had been one of the few female vampires to rule alone. Alas, the Japanese’s choice in living in isolation limited her influence in the rest of the vampire macrocosms.

“But we are changing that.” Carmilla winked her eye in an accomplice manner, making the redhead smile spontaneously. “Your Devil’s Forgemaster husband is not going to stand in our way, is he?”

“Why do you insist in being wary about him?” Lenore questioned, feeling exhausted by Carmilla’s never-ending suspicions on the human.

“He’s a man and he is human. It’s the recipe for a creature with insatiable thirst for power.” The queen answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Hector doesn’t want power.”

“What does he want, then?”

“When I asked him that, he answered me shoes.” Lenore told, recalling that day with a smile. Carmilla chuckled and drank the last bit of her wine. “But in all seriousness, Hector just wants his freedom back.”

“Will you grant him his freedom?”

“If I do, it will be when we all four agree to that. I won’t betray you, Carmilla.” Lenore assured the queen. Carmilla locked her eyes with the girl’s and shrunk them in a pensive manner. Her face relaxed after a while.

“I’m glad your infatuation for that human hasn’t clouded your judgement.”

“I’m not infatuated.”

“Oh, but you are completely smitten for him.” The queen said knowingly and Lenore could feel a rush of heat reach her face.

“Well. I do really like him.” The redhead admitted and it was because she was a vampire, otherwise she had blushed profusely.

“I wonder for how long.” Carmilla said while she stood up to refill her glass of wine.

“Why do you say that?” The vampire girl questioned surprised, her eyes following the woman to the glass cabinet.

“You always get bored after a few weeks.” The silver-haired woman explained, while walking back to the table. She sat down again. “It’s not the first time you are all head over heels about somebody, but you always end up losing interest.”

“It’s different, this time.” Lenore said in a defensive tone.

“Is it? I do have to admit he is much better looking than the most idiots you dated.” The queen said while she took a sip of her wine. “Not to mention he is a weak mortal, completely under your control thanks to your loyalty ring.”

“Carmilla! That is just mean! I am not controlling him.” Lenore raised her voice, unable to believe the other woman’s savageness.

“You are not?” The silver-haired woman questioned skeptical; an eyebrow stylishly lifted.

“I’m trying not to.” Lenore confessed sheepishly. The queen studied the girl for a moment.

“You are being serious about him, aren’t you? Maybe you do care for him, after all.” Carmilla murmured the last part more to herself, sounding annoyed. “When did you start developing feelings for the boy?”

“I was already curious about him, when you brought him to the castle, but I think it was mainly after our second talk.” Lenore told, a sweet smile reaching her lips as the recollections of the past month returned to her mind. “He had a completely different attitude compared to our first encounter. He was, of course, still bitter, but I had not expected him to be so – I don’t know – open. Somehow easygoing, enough to tease a bit. We ended up having quite a pleasant talk, even if it was a short one. The more I visited Hector, the more we talked. Banal stuff, ordinary things about life. The more he talked, the more relaxed he became, the more he revealed his true self.”

“And the more fascinated you became by him. Am I right?”

“Yes.”

“I still think your decision in marrying him was too rushed.” Carmilla said, facing the girl, after analyzing the color of the wine in her glass for a while.

“Why wait, Carmilla? I spent enough time with him that month to know he was the one. Of course there are still many things I don’t know about him, and he about me. But that’s what makes the marriage interesting. It’s a process of getting to know each other better.”

“God, you are such a hopeless romantic.” Carmilla complained, bringing her fingers to her temple in annoyance. “You are going to hate what you are about to hear. I can’t help but think you convinced yourself he’s the right person, because you have a soft spot for weak and vulnerable things. You enjoy caring as much as you like to dominate. As for Hector, he probably convinced himself he likes you, to elude himself from the harsh truth he’s imprisoned and powerless under your domination, giving himself a fake sense of safety.

“Why would you say something so horrible? Why would Hector and I not have genuine feelings for each other? Is it really that inconceivable?” Lenore interrogated shocked. This was the last drop and Carmilla actually managed to hurt her. It was infuriating how the other woman refused to accept Hector’s new role in her life. To accept she could fall in love with a human man. To believe she could, in fact, just fall in love. “Not everybody is an ice queen like you!”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You never give the chance for anybody to reach your heart!” Lenore accused furious, her emotions finally getting the best of her. What she felt for Hector was real and Carmilla did not have the right to question her feelings. Lenore would not accept another unjust accusation because of her sister’s personal issues. The redhead tossed away diplomacy and, while tears reached the corner of her eyes; she pulled off her mightiest weapon against Carmilla. The confronting truth. “You shut others away. And by doing so, you keep shutting yourself from others. You don’t give yourself a chance to fall in love.” The silver-haired woman stared at the girl wide-eyed, mouth agape, not expecting the other to blow up. “Not every man is like _him_ , Carmilla!” The silver-haired woman shut her mouth understanding to whom the redhead was referring. The vampire master that turned her centuries ago and promised her the world; but then became old, mad and cruel. And how she suffered under his insane rule. Lenore continued her rant, the ire giving way to compassion. “You need to overcome your past, your traumas or you’ll end up alone. You deserve to know how it’s to love and to be loved. You have already let chances pass by.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Roberto, Carmilla. I’m talking about Roberto. He was crazy about you.” Lenore said with a look of pity and the queen swallowed dryly at the recollection of the Italian vampire.

“Roberto has many annoying quirks.”

“So, he’s a bit eccentric?” Lenore said exasperated and cleaned the moisture from the corner of her eyes. “He was good for you. If you would have allowed him, I’m sure he would have made you happy. Instead, he’s making our lovely friend Fabrizianna happy.”

“Why do you keep insisting on Roberto? I honestly don’t care what that fool is up to.” The queen told proudly, while she crossed her arms angrily. She wasn’t quite enjoying the younger female lecturing her about her personal fears and romantic issues.

“Look, Carmilla. I insist because I love you and I worry about you.” Lenore told sincerely, finally mellowing.

The queen studied the redhead and sighed. Lenore was very smart, with a great political insight; but she was the emotional one of the quartet; young, idealistic, romantic. Carmilla wondered if it was of her personality or her youth. Perhaps a bit of both. She wondered if she had once been like Lenore, a romantic dreamer. And suddenly, Carmilla wanted Lenore to continue to be the irritating idealistic girl she was, because that was what made Lenore spirited. The queen didn’t want to see Lenore become cold and bitter like she became. She stood up and walked to the redhead, a rare soft look in her normally icy blue eyes.

“I appreciate you concern.” Carmilla said, while crouching by Lenore’s chair, so she had to lift her head to look up at the younger vampire. She picked the girl’s hands and held them with tenderness. “But as long as I have you, Morana and Striga, I have everything I need.”

“One day it won’t be enough.” Lenore said while a pair of tears escaped her eyes. Carmilla felt a knot form in her throat, knowing those crystalline pearls were meant for her. “Everybody gets lonely, sooner or later. You have to let go of your fears and give love a chance.”

“God, this conversation is becoming overly sentimental.” The queen tried to tease, being forced to use all of her self-control not to start weeping. The redhead was the only person that managed to put her in this inconvenient emotional state. The silver-haired vampire wiped the tears from Lenore’s face. A moment of stillness followed, in which both vampires kept holding hands and shared looks of sisterly affection.

“One day, you’ll meet the right man.” Lenore said with a gentle smile. Carmilla smiled too, but more from bitterness, for she did not foresee that ever happening. “You’ll see. Then you’ll be the one to be overly besotted.”

“Get out of here!” Carmilla protested in a giggle, while shoving the girl’s hands away. She stood up grinning because she succeeded in making the other girl laugh. “Don’t you ever change, you absurdly romantic tart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter just kept growing and growing. I have the feeling I treated a whole series of different issues and subjects! XD


	12. Striga

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> Writer: Darktragicangel
> 
> Beta: Shadowking514
> 
> Wow, it took me much longer than intended to post this chapter. I've been wanting to write this chapter for a long while, waiting for the moment in the story I thought was the most fit. But I kept feeling unsatisfied with the dialogue, so the chapter grew, then shrunk and then grew again until I was finally happy with the end result. I think this is the chapter I most reedited in this story up to now! But I am really glad I did. Hopefully, you will find it as great as I do :))
> 
> Happy reading, and please, don't forget to leave your thoughts behind in the comments section.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the hollow granite corridors, the sound vibrating in the cold stones. The shadow of the passersby grew and shrunk between the dim yellow light of artificial lamps, creating a silhouette that reminded a mystical demon. Soldiers guarding their post stiffly straightened their backs, their ears identifying the owner of the strong stride, a pace that demanded respect and some fear. A cold night breeze entered through an open window and would cross paths with the vampire, teasing the long untamed black locks. Bright green eyes fixed themselves in the blackness at the end of the corridor but watched the tensed faces of the scared guards from the peripheral vision. Striga ignored the smell of fear the soldiers emanated. It was something she was forced to live with since her mid-teens and had gotten used to with the passing of centuries. Somehow, there was something comforting in the knowledge she intimidated her fellow-vampires.

The warrior vampire reached a tall closed door. She stopped in front of it for a moment, her eyes studying the recently added new engraving on the dark wood. A circle with eight lines surrounding it, four longer ones depicting a cross, four smaller ones illustrating an X. The Devil’s Forgemaster’s crest symbol. Striga breathed in, pleased with the deadly silence of her surroundings. But then, all of a sudden, her refined ears twitched, picking a new-born sound. It was a metal meeting stone. A loud and sharp hit, followed by a melodious vibrato that rose energetically in the air, creating a long constant note that slowly dimmed into silence. Before the metallic note faded completely away, a new hit was struck, a new note was born, meeting the end of the dying one, so the music was kept alive. Striga closed her eyes, listening carefully to the sequence of notes. An untrained ear would mistake the regular strikes for repetition, but Striga had a sensible hearing and recognized the small nuances between each hit. The small differences in tone that gave each note its own character. She could hear the music the Forgemaster’s magic was creating. It was a soothing and mystic melodious sound. The song of death creating life.

After five strikes the final note vanished into oblivion and was replaced by a loud and wild roar. It sounded upset and confused, like the scream of a new-born baby. Another soul had been reborn, another demon awakened. A new addition to Styria’s army of night creatures. Striga opened her eyes. Her green orbs moved to look at the soldier guarding the door, without turning her head. The guard gulped soundless and dry, his dead heart beating violently under his chest.

“I do not wish to be disturbed while I am in the forge.” Striga told in a flat tone, but one that had enough authority to freeze the stubbornest will.

The guard nodded quickly and straightened his back, even more, his whole body tensed beneath the cold armor. Striga opened the door and Hector turned around, hearing the creak. He was honestly a little surprised to see the vampire. Three nights had flown by since the last meeting he attended. He had received no message or indication the military was actually going to visit his forge. Even Lenore seemed to be vague about it when he asked.

“A good night to you.” He welcomed, the expression still tasting strange in his tongue, even after living almost a year in Dracula’s castle. Now and then he still had to convert his automatic “good afternoon” greeting to the vampiric nocturnal routine.

Striga restricted to a polite nod while slowly closing the door behind her. She looked around and had expected the space to be more illuminated since Hector was a day creature. All artificial lamps were turned off, most of the illumination came from dozens of candles, mostly concentrated on the center of the room, where a large altar-looking granite stone stood. On it was one candle, a few flasks, a mortar and pestle, a saw, and some knives. The rest of the room was swallowed by darkness, the blackness only ate by the natural light of an almost full moon, that entered through the three large windows. Her nose wrinkled at the stench that filled the air, a mix of melting wax, blood, and guts. She was sure the human had gotten used to the impure smell since he was hours inside and had not opened a single window.

The warrior ventured a step forward and immediately several pairs of bright blue circles emerged from the darkest corners of the room. Her eyes had not seen the night creatures until they moved, but her ears had sensed their breathing when she entered the forge. Striga estimated there were about 20 demons in the workshop. The beasts moved quietly, barely producing a sound; their expressions deprived of any emotion but curiosity. Striga studied their features, expressions, and body language. While she paced towards the middle of the large division, the demons closest by would approach her. They moved carefully, their movements contained, like if they were afraid to scare the vampire away. They looked at her intently, their bright blue eyes deprived of malice. The demons would touch her drapes or her dark locks in painfully slow movements. It looked like they were afraid of hurting her. Their behavior reminded her of children when they saw something for the first time and wanted to understand what it was. She sensed no threat, no ill-intention in the creatures she knew to be extremely deadly.

“They really are loyal.” She stated neutrally and Hector nodded.

“They acknowledge you through the energy of Lenore’s magical rings. Otherwise, they would already have shown their fangs, hissed, or groaned as a warning. But they wouldn’t do anything.”

“Until you would give the order.” The vampire wisely said with one eyebrow lifted, for one of the creatures was sniffing a strand of her hair. She locked eyes with it and the demon retreated to shadows with an apologetic look in its glowing eyes.

“That would be correct.” Hector said with a kind smile, while he petted his most recent creation on its head. “They are a bit like dogs.”

The creature was twice as tall and broad as Hector. Its face was wrinkled and appalling to look at; with the bottom fangs sticking out, reminding of a wild boar. The beast behaved sweetly, huffing pleased at its master’s caress and waged its uncombed tail like an excited puppy. Striga thought this was a surreal and contradicting sight for many reasons. A lethal creature acting affably. The human, small and frail in comparison to the giant beast but having all power and control over the demon. The affection shared between a man and a monster looked too natural to be real. They were two agents of death and destruction, but they emitted a calming aura of trust and love. Hector’s innocent looks were all but deceiving. How could a dark sorcerer, a necromancer, somebody who wielded the most unholy and malevolent powers in the world of magic, look this sweet, this gentle, this angelic? It was extremely illogical and therefore extremely disturbing. It made Striga feel uncomfortable and perturbed. It made her dislike Hector.

“You are a creepy man, you know that?” Striga said out of the blue, yet not properly sounding offensive. The Forgemaster smiled with an amused acknowledging grin.

“Creepy is one of the kindest insults I usually get.” He said in a chuckle, while he gestured a night creature to place the next corpse on the forging stone. “But then again, my trade is not particularly – ordinary.”

“You get insulted often by your fellow-humans?” Striga asked out of pure curiosity, remembering how people were narrow-minded about many things and quick to be judgmental.

“Yes. Most of the time accompanied by spitting or the throwing of rotten food or horse shit.” He said with some bitterness, and Striga made a scoffing sound. “Stones were the worse. That always got me running away.” He added while he undressed the corpse carefully. “Did you get that as well, when you were human?”

“What makes you think I would get any of that?” Striga asked stoically and Hector paused his work to look at her.

“You’re an Amazon.” Hector responded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and Striga studied him, trying to determine if he was making fun of her or being serious. She concluded it was the latter. The vampire inhaled before answering his question.

“Sometimes children or teenagers, in little groups of three or four, would come out and throw mud or food at me; but they would scramble off before I could even react. As for their parents, they didn’t dare to try and defy me.” Striga told and witnessed an amused grin surgeon the man’s lips.

“Understandable. Your size demands respect.” The man casually said and the woman could hear there was no malice in is words. She watched him fold the deceased clothing neatly and pass it on to a night creature. Striga followed the demon’s movements, till it halted nearby a window.

“I thought you didn’t love your kind.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why display this amount of reverence and respect for the deceased?” Striga asked while she pointed at a small pile of folded garments covered in bloodstains next to the night creature that had just assisted Hector.

“They died violent deaths and their bodies are to be used as vessels to demonic souls. They will never have a funeral, will never receive their final farewell from this world. It’s the least I can do. A last gesture of respect to honor their existence in the plane of the living.”

“If these people were alive and would meet you, they surely would hurt and mistreat you.” Striga pointed out and Hector sighed.

“It’s true. Maybe I’m doing this more for myself. Gives me a sort of sense of closure. I like to think, despite all the animosity between myself and the rest of humankind, that this person would appreciate my small gesture.” The Forgemaster said with a pensive tone while looking at the cadaver. He shrugged his shoulders, while he whispered _silly_ to himself. Yet, the vampire picked it. The Forgemaster resumed his train of thought. “I imagine it’s not appreciated a dark sorcerer bringing demons into the world.” He quietly said while he picked up a small pointy knife to cut the corpse’s chest open.

Striga hummed in agreement while watching his movements with interest. His way of working reminded her that of a surgeon. “I learned to be careful along the years to not reveal my necromantic powers.” Hector continued, while he pulled the cut skin to the sides with his already red-stained hands. The cadaver’s organs were exposed and a nauseating strong stench rose in the air. The Forgemaster continued working impassive, but Striga’s nose was very offended by the putrefying reek. “One can hide a secret for so long. Alas, I always ended up being discovered, in some way.”

“I suppose your fellow humans weren’t too thrilled when discovering your secret trade.” Striga hinted while she watched Hector make some small incisions on some organs. She realized, after a short while, he was drawing alchemistic symbols in them.

“They weren’t. Sometimes, I would be kicked out by a scared and revolted mob from whatever village or town I was in. Vampires aren’t the only ones being chased by torches and pitchforks.” Hector told while he picked a cloth to clean his magical hammer. “Other times, I had to run away for my life. I had more than once a fire stake prepared especially for me.” He paused for a moment, looking thoughtfully at the hammer. “It was more than the magic, of course. For some reason, I never really fitted in. I’ve always been an outsider, already since a child. And people don’t tend to like it when you are different.” He blew off the remaining dust on the hammer, rubbed the metal one last time, before resting the cloth on the table. He turned his head to face Striga. “I suppose you know one thing or two about being different.”

Before the vampire could respond to him, a bright blue light surrounded the forge hammer, creating waves of blue smoke which grew and intensified. One strike, two strikes. At each hit, at each vibration, a new change appeared on the corpse. The chest closed itself, the skin grew dark and thick, the limbs grew longer and muscular, a pair of horns adorned the head, claws grew on hands and feet. The creature woke up after the last strike and roared loud and hot-tempered. It attempted to attack its master, but Hector skillfully dodged it. Striga, startled at the monster’s behavior and was already drawing her sword. Then, she witnessed something unprecedented.

The Forgemaster easily mellowed the angered beast. All he did was rest his hand on the creature’s face, lock his eyes on the demon’s and it recognized its master. It became gentle, moved away with a low grunt, meeting his own kind in the room’s darkest shadows. The military exhaled relieved through her nose.

Striga had lived a lifetime of wars and battles. She had seen both humans and vampires destroy entire villages and cities. Massacres, fires, torture were all means to create fear, despair, submission. This was the way empires rose. This was how power was achieved. With aggression. The reason she suddenly perceived Hector as frightening. With a single soft touch, the man had the power of calming down a demonic soul coming from the pits of Hell itself. This was the most incredible and unbelievable display of power she had ever witnessed. And there was not one ounce of violence in it. It was a power made of trust, loyalty, love.

Never had Striga felt more thankful for Lenore’s cunning mind. She didn’t want to imagine what it would be to fight Hector’s army. Her dislike for the man increased. And it was his voice that shook Striga from her dazzlement. “It must have been difficult, being a tall and brawny woman, stronger than most men. Being a warrior instead of a housewife.” Hector locked his eyes with the vampire, a clever glint in them. It was like he was telling her he knew a secret she thought was only hers. “You must have been a topic for a lot of local gossip and receiver of all kinds of ugly names.” Striga grinned involuntarily at the man’s assertiveness.

“Giant and man-woman were the most common ones.” Striga said after a short moment of hesitation, not hiding her derisive tone at the memory. It still happened, although, very seldom.

“That’s rather non-creative.” Hector said in a scoff, almost sounding disappointed. “I would have expected something more in the sphere of – I don’t know - an aberration of nature? Or a child cursed by a witch. God’s punishment for the parent’s sins. The Devil’s interference.”

“Something tells me, that is what people called you.” Striga spoke with a knowing smile, understanding the Forgemaster had lived the same kind of ostracization as she had.

“Mainly the latter two. Father was an alchemist. Of course, in people’s minds, all alchemists sell their souls to the Devil, so obviously, any child they would conceive would necessarily be born under a bad omen.” The man said in an almost humorous manner, but Striga could taste the familiar toxicity under her tongue.

“You were doomed to be perceived as a threat already before your birth.” Striga concluded, being reminded of how ridiculously stupid humans could be, taking wrong and damaging conclusions for all the wrong reasons. How can anybody condemn a baby, solely based on the parent’s trade? “Humans are afraid of what they don’t understand. Science, magic, anything that’s a bit too mysterious for their stupid ignorant minds, must come from the Devil.” The woman voiced in a tone of disdain and Hector nodded in agreement.

“Anything that is different, really. Like a woman that could never fit in a society ruled by the conservative imposition of gender role, because of her stature.” The Forgemaster deliberately said while he turned fully, to look at the vampire properly. “It must have been quite a struggle, to surpass the stigma of being a warrior instead of a wife and mother. Or did you become both?”

“I never married nor had children. But, truth to be told, I dislike males.” Striga said while she looked down at the human with a crocked grin.

“I was half expecting that. Another item to add to your pariah list.” Hector casually said and Striga was actually surprised. She expected him to react negatively, to at least bear an expression of disgust or appall. Instead, he behaved unmoved by her revelation. “The vampire society is the first I know to accept Homosexuality.” He added as if he had read her thoughts.

“Is it? And what do you think? About accepting it.”

“I think it’s a good thing. Homosexuality always existed, but religion turned it into a sin. It’s not fair people should spend a lifetime of oppression and self-loathing, a life full of lies just to suit society’s forceful rules and worldly order.”

Striga lifted an eyebrow impressed at the man’s answer. She could, not only sense he was being honest about his opinion, but he was also comfortable talking about the subject. It was clear, this was not the first time Hector discussed this topic. He was also firm in his opinion. The warrior wondered if Hector had met fellow humans that were mistreated, persecuted, or cast out because of their homosexuality. She wondered, how far his life in ostracization made him become compassionate towards society’s marginals. How far him being an academic in the obscure studies, somehow taught him to look beyond and become tolerant. She was finally understanding what Lenore had meant when she had described Hector. Despite his man-child gullible character, he demonstrated an uncommon tolerant view on the unjust social categorization that created pariahs and their subsequent rejection. Striga was disliking the man a little less.

“You once told Morana you were reading some books about vampire culture to understand which species was worse - vampires or humans. Have you reached a conclusion?” Striga asked, sincerely curious about the man’s perspective.

“Well, I came to the conclusion _worse_ is not really the right word choice. You see, when I started reading, I was limiting myself to the violent nature of both species. To which I, by the way, I think is identical. Both do wars, use torture, practice plotting and scheming, betray to achieve goals... Which makes sense because vampires were humans once. The bodies changed, gifted with immortality, but the cruel and destructive nature survived.” Hector explained and could read the skepticism on Striga’s face. “I’m not saying vampires are monsters. I’m just saying, vampires and humans, can be equally barbaric.”

Striga’s skeptic expression turned sour and Hector lifted both his palms, in a silent truce gesture. “What I came to realize, while reading, is that vampires and humans are on different stages of civilization. I’m convinced it has to do with knowledge and access to education. Vampires are centuries ahead of humans. Thanks to immortality, your species can maintain ancient knowledge alive, which has been long lost and forgotten by humans. Science and medicine, technology and engineering, arts and literature. I believe the more knowledgeable and the more educated a society is, the more respect, tolerance, and equality will exist. Different is finally accepted instead of prejudiced.”

“I wonder then, what is your standpoint on your fellow-humans?” Striga asked, her dislike for the man diminishing considerately.

“Humans are behind, very much behind.” Hector admitted with a tired sigh. “I think, because the majority is illiterate and, therefore ignorant, they are also more prone to be condemnatory, dogmatic, and aggressive. But, I do believe that there is hope. That humans can reach the same level of development as vampires. Only, I’m afraid it will take centuries. At least education is no longer restricted to monasteries. That’s an important step.” He paused a short moment, like if he was gathering his thoughts and ordering them properly. “Nowadays, noblemen can study at University. And education is no longer limited to the noble born, because many common-people, mainly merchants, managed to build up their economies enough to compete with nobility. You know, the bourgeoisie.” He elaborated and it was the first time the vampire heard sincere enthusiasm and optimistic hope in his voice, joined by a glint in his clear eyes.

Yet, that happy moment was fleeting and dropped suddenly when he sighed sadly, his shoulders slumping a bit. “But - humans have a bad tendency in destroying an entire generation’s hard work with wars and oppression. And people forget quickly. Too quickly. Not to mention, humans still have a long way to reach the point where education is accessible to all social classes and both genders. Farmers and fishermen don’t even get the chance to learn to read or write. Just like women. Most are illiterate and restricted to their female role imposed by society.”

The man silenced with his conclusion, an aura of defeat surrounding him. He lifted his eyes, resting in the shadows. A loving sad smile reached his lips when he saw several blue glowing orbs staring back at him. “Striga, how futile is it to keep hoping in something when everything seems to point to the contrary?” He asked in a low whisper. The vampire gave him an understanding look that almost became compassionate. Up to now, Striga had barely interacted with the man. Up to now, she had conversed with a former-general, an alchemist, a scholar. But Hector’s reasoning, the way his hope was crushed by the hard reality, his question; all revealed a bit of his real personality.

“It’s good to keep hope.” Striga answered after some moments of contemplative silence. “Even when nothing seems to make sense, or when everything seems too hopeless to carry on; it’s important to keep hope. Hope is what will give you the strength to fight and the will to live on.”

“Is that what you did when you were human?” Hector quietly asked his forge mastering work by now completely forgotten. Striga studied the man’s face closely, his eyes shining bright in the darkness. She recognized her past self in his fragile yearning look. He reminded her of when she was just a girl, trying to understand why the world was against her, why everything seemed to be designed to hate her. Hector reminded her endless path of personal wars and battles against a closed-minded society. 

“Not only when I was human. But yes. I kept hope and never gave up.” Striga firmly told. She could see in Hector’s eyes, he didn’t believe to possess the needed energy to go on and wondered if Lenore was aware of her husband’s depressive side. The military decided to talk with the redhead the next time she would see her. Striga realized, she didn’t want the man to give up. She wanted him to find the strength withing himself, so he could win his own personal battles. And come out of that dark place she had escaped from many, many years ago. “I was the tallest and strongest person in my village. Everybody was scared of me, even my brothers, who loved me dearly.

Women despised me, men loathed me. People only sought me when they needed my help for emergencies or tasks that required physical strength. Further, they kept as much distance from me as they could. Nobody offered me friendship, nobody would care to listen to a thought or opinion I wanted to voice.” The warrior paused, her memory traveling to a time she thought she had long forgotten but was in truth, still very vivid in her mind. “I was nearing adulthood when my village was attacked, pillaged, and burned down. I had no fighting skills, not compared to the invaders. I was outnumbered and knew I was condemned to be defeated. Still, I fought. The leader of the invaders was so impressed, he decided to spare my family in exchange for recruiting me.”

Striga inhaled deeply. Her eyes viewed in the darkness of the room, the blurry faces of her mother and two surviving siblings, against an unbearably hot orange background. They held each other and cried, while she walked away with the soldiers. The vampire remembered how her heart had been broken that day, but not one single tear had been spilled. Striga wished she could remember their faces. “I became a fierce warrior. Every day, I dedicated hours to training. Practiced sword fight, one-on-one combat, lifted heavy weights to build up my muscles. By the time I was 20, no soldier was a match for me. My reputation traveled until I was well-known in the whole Kievan Rus’. I became so famous, one day a vampire Viking leader sought me out, wanting me to become part of his army.”

“Godbrand!” Hector exclaimed and Striga nodded with a grin.

“He regretted. That little bragger was terrified of me. I think he was waiting for the day I would try to kill him or organize a coup against him. But I did nothing of the sort. He was my leader and the vampire who turned me, so I respected him despite his flaws.” The military said in a scoff and Hector chuckled low, reminded of how jittery Godbrand could sometimes be. Part of him missed the Viking idiot. “One day, I accompanied Godbrand as his main general to one of Dracula’s Council meetings. That’s when I met Carmilla for the first time. She persuaded me in joining her in Styria with the promise I would find there everything I ever aspired for.”

“Did you?”

“I did. I rule alongside three strong women, I am Styria’s army’s leader, and I fell in love with my best friend.” Striga said with a proud smile. She witnessed a wonderful surge in the man’s eyes when she spoke the last part. “Morana.”

“You and Morana are a couple? That I did not expect.” Hector honestly told unable to hide the shock mixed with awe in his tone. “You two are completely the opposite of each other.” The vampire’s lips drew a sincere entertained smile until a small chuckling sound involuntarily escaped her lips. The man’s reaction had been so sincere, so precious, it was impossible not to.

“Do you and Lenore ever talk?” Striga asked, unable to believe her relationship with Morana was a novelty to the man.

“We talk, at dinner.” He hesitantly told. “We don’t really talk about any of you. It’s more daily stuff, you know?”

“You only talk at dinner? What do you to the rest of the day?” Striga questioned bluntly while crossing her arms. How was it possible they didn’t talk more than that, considering the amount of time they spent together, she wondered.

“We – sleep.” The man uneasily told, and the vampire lifted an eyebrow sceptic.

“You sleep? All those hours?”

“Yes, we sleep - really a lot.” He said in an uncomfortable nervous tone. Striga continued staring at him with incredibility until color reached his cheeks and the vampire finally realized what the man was trying to reveal and conceal behind his words.

“Awkward!” An unfamiliar voice came from the shadows and Striga made out the form of a wolf looking creature with six eyes and glowing sharp fangs.

“Thanks for the unrequested comment, Blue Fangs!” Hector scolded clearly upset, his face by now completely flushed from embarrassment. The creature bent its head to the side, giving the man a cheeky smile. “Go to Hell.”

“I just came from there, master.” Blue Fangs wittily responded, to which the man scoffed both annoyed and amused.

Striga watched Hector gesture the closest demon to place a new corpse on the granite stone. Her eyes turned to Blue Fangs, just in time to see him sink back into the shadows. Not only were the creatures of the night loyal to their master, but apparently, they watched over him too. The demon had cleverly broken the ice with its comment and prevented his master from further embarrassment. At least Hector had the decency of not tormenting others about his sex life, unlike his bride.

The vampire smiled sincerely, while the man focused on his work. She had come to the forge with the intent of discussing some technical aspects of Hector’s manufacturing of Greek Fire and gunpowder. Instead, she came to learn a bit more about the human and was positively surprised by his ideas and concepts. Above all, she didn’t expect to discover how much she identified with the man.

Striga concluded she liked Hector. She still thought he was a creep, but he was an interesting man with a complex character. It made her feel empathy for him, made her curious and want to know more about the human. She finally understood why Lenore had fallen for the Devil’s Forgemaster. He was a little box full of unexpected surprises. That made him the ideal partner for the redhead. A man bearing the complexity of unpredictability. A human with a vampire mentality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kievan Rus' is Old East Slavic for Russia. It was a loose federation of East Slavic and Finnic tribes from the late 9th to the mid-13th century, under the reign of the Varangian Rurik dynasty, the Viking version of Russia.


	13. Insecure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> Writer: Darktragicangel
> 
> Beta: Shadowking514
> 
> I decided to start uploading both my stories alternately, once a week, on the weekends.  
> This means, next weekend I'll post the new chapter of "Somewhere Between" (for those who don't know it yet, it's a Hector x Carmilla fanfic), and in two weeks time, the following chapter from this story.
> 
> It's easier for me to manage better my available time for writting and gives me enough space to allow inspiration to continue to flow; while you, dear readers, can count on a more regular updating.
> 
> At least, that's the plan. This is the first time I'm writting two stories at the same time. It's both challenging and fun at the same time.
> 
> Enjoy the reading and do not forget to leave for comments below.

A sky of cobalt slowly became lighter, the shiny stars one by one hiding behind a veil of clarity. Under it, a castle elevated on the top of the highest mountain of an impressive rocky formation. Its white walls and golden domes were covered under a thin layer of snow, the last remnants of a chilly winter, giving the building a fairy tale look. Its interior was a marvel of labyrinthic galleries, of tall window frames decorated with refined designs. Artificial lamps gave life to the dark walls, evidence of an ancient knowledge preserved by the vampire society.

Three young vampire girls giggled and gossiped together, while they waited for the sun to slowly rise. Their sophisticated and colorful clothing, their stylish hairstyles, and gestures held testimony to their aristocratic upbringing. Like all young maidens, they often amused themselves in silly and trivial matters. Right now, they were engaged in having a glimpse of the most recent addition to the castle’s population.

“I heard he’s building an army of the undead for Striga.” One of the vampires said.

“Night creatures, Viktorija.” The second girl corrected. “He’s a Devil’s Forgemaster, a dark sorcerer with the power of summoning the doomed souls from Hell to a corpse and transform it into a demon.”

“Looks like Danica is well informed.” The third teased and the trio giggled in childish complicity.

“I asked the soldier guarding the forge,” Danica explained, her eyes glinting playfully.

“You’ll find any excuse just to talk with Timothee.” Viktorija wittily pointed out and the girls burst in another fit of giggles.

“And what may three lovely ladies be giggling about in this time of the early morning?” A vampire man approached. He was tall, with dark long brown hair caught in a low ponytail. He wore a creamy shirt, dark pants, and a maroon coat. He wasn’t particularly handsome, but his bright blue eyes and crooked grin made him somewhat attractive and mysterious.

“Good morning Mykola.” The trio greeted in harmonious unison while they elegantly made a small curtesy.

“We are waiting for the Forgemaster to come.”

“You mean the mortal man Carmilla brought prisoner?” Mykola questioned, recalling the day the soldiers returned from a failed mission in Brailla and talked about a decrepit human necromancer they had to drag along.

“A prisoner Lenore took a liking for.”

“Yeah, right.” The man snorted skeptically.

“I mean it. The mortal lived a month in the dungeons.” Viktorija lowered her voice like she was sharing an important secret. “He was treated below dog and then, all of the sudden, he gets his own house, gets his own working place, is summoned to the Council once in a while and, wait for the best part, Lenore sleeps every day in his lair.”

“She adopted him!” Danica blurted excitedly.

“Made him her lover.” The third said with a knowing look. “I can’t blame her. The man is a god! Do you know how we only call gorgeous, pretty, and beautiful to females? Well, this is a man we can apply all of these words.”

“Looks like someone has a crush, Kalina.” Mykola teased, but the girl grinned in a way that told him she knew what she was talking about. He bitterly ignored it and added, in a nonchalant tone. “But seriously, we all know it’s only a matter of time before she loses interest in him.”

“Yeah, you should know a thing or two about that.” Kalina mischievously commented and Mykola gave her a dark look.

“I don’t know. Seems pretty serious to me.” Danica said with a pensive tone. “You remember that guard executed about two weeks ago? Lenore ordered the execution because he disobeyed her by allowing the remaining _sisters_ into the human’s house. The building is entirely his, off-limits to everybody, including the queen.”

“Not to mention, that episode happened because Lenore and her new lover had a major fight.” Viktorija completed the rumor with a malicious grin. “And guess what, Mykola? They made their peace.” The male vampire looked genuinely shocked and was about to say something when he was interrupted by Kalina.

“Shhh, here he comes.” She said and the four vampires leaned on the balustrade to look down, for they stood on an upper floor. The sound of footsteps was heard and shortly after the figure of a man appeared. “That’s him, all right.”

“Shit, you weren’t joking,” Danica whispered; the distance short enough to have a good look at Hector while he walked by. “He’s heavenly.”

“No wonder Lenore beds him. I’m getting the hots from only looking at him.” Viktorija admitted and thought it a pity the human didn’t lookup. It was impossible he hadn’t heard them.

“I honestly don’t see what all the fuss is about.” Mykola murmured blasé, while he crossed his arms.

“Sounds like somebody is jealous.” Kalina playfully accused before all three girls burst into laughter again.

The sound reverberated in the ample space and rose all the way up to the ceiling. Hector quickened his pace, while he rolled his eyes upset. Lately, this kind of occurrence has been happening more and more often. Lately, during his walk to or back from the forge, he would hear whispers or giggles. Unlike today, most of the time he couldn’t see were they came from. He had distinguished, from his peripheral vision, four figures in which three were clearly females. The giggling made him feel rather uneasy. He knew why he was being watched and if there was something he hated, was being in the spotlight in this manner. He hastened his pace, unaware of a pair of bright blue eyes that followed his movements with despite.

…

A few minutes later, Hector was still pacing fast. His ears ceased hearing the derisive laughter, but the sound was still echoing in his mind. He wished for nothing to return to his home as quickly as possible, where he was far from prying eyes and felt safe. He turned a corner really fast and almost bumped against a passerby.

“Woah! What is all the rush about?” The man with whom Hector almost collided exclaimed.

“My apologies.” Hector quickly said breathless, lifting his head a bit up to look at the vampire. The man standing opposite him was taller than him.

“A human.” The vampire said in a wondering tone. “You must be the Forgemaster.”

“Ehm, yes, that I am.”

“Allow me to present myself. Mykola of Ruthenia.” The vampire said with an elegant ceremonial bow, to which the human stared impassively. Mykola straightened again, smiling kindly, with an expectant look on his face.

“Hector.” The human said halfheartedly, having no interest in engaging any sort of conversation with a stranger.

“Hector…?” The man repeated, stretching the name in an indication he waited for a surname.

“Just Hector.”

“Surely, you have a family name.”

“Devil’s Forgemasters renounce their family names as a requirement to study the dark arts.” Hector clarified with a bored tone. “It’s a way to symbolize the rejection of any bonds that may still tie us with our past, before becoming full sorcerers.”

“Before becoming full sorcerers?” Mykola echoed curiously and Hector resisted the urge of sighing impatiently. This too was something that had been happening often lately. Curious vampires would intersect him somewhere in the castle and bombard him with silly questions, wanting to know more about his powers and his necromantic skills.

“I was born with magic but had to learn to master it.”

“Is there a school of dark arts?”

“No. An aspiring magician apprentice must always seek a master.”

“Was your teacher a Forgemaster too?”

“He was a philosopher spiritualist and necromancer,” Hector responded unable to hide his annoyance. “I’m sorry, but I’m tired, had a long night work, and…”

“And you want to retire for the day. It’s understandable.” Mykola kindly completed his train of thought. Hector gave a small smile of gratitude and relief. “I too would be in a hurry to meet Lady Lenore. Make the most of it while you can.” He added while he took a few steps to take his leave. He smirked maliciously as soon as he turned his back, the expression of confusion had been clear on the boy’s face.

“What do you mean?” The Forgemaster asked perplexed. He watched the vampire halt and turn around to face him again.

“Oh dear, has nobody warned you?” Mykola spoke with polite compassion and Hector felt suddenly very worried. The man proceeded to explain his point, while he retraced his steps to stand closer to the mortal man. “Lady Lenore is – how should I say – she’s a _free spirit_. She’s energetic, independent, and very passionate about new things. On the downside, she loses interest rather quickly.” The vampire laughed internally while he witnessed the human’s eyes grow at his words. The boy was clearly gullible, naïve, believing every word he spoke without questioning. “Don’t get me wrong, Hector. She’s a sweet and kind girl. She simply gets bored very easily. Well, it’s to be excepted from somebody from royalty.”

“Royalty?” The word came out in a shocked choke and Mykola rested his hand on the Forgemaster’s shoulder.

“She has not told you, has she?” The vampire asked in an understanding tone to which Hector shook his head, his clear eyes revealing his disbelief. “Maybe Lady Lenore doesn’t want to intimidate you. After all, what can a plebeian human man ever give to a woman of her status?” He gave a few pats on Hector’s back, with a little bit more force than he should, savoring victory on the lost look of the mortal’s face. “It has been a pleasure meeting you, Hector the Forgemaster.”

The vampire took his leave and Hector turned slightly, so his eyes could follow the man. He stood paralyzed on the spot; his eyes fixed on the last place he saw the vampire. The echo of giggling girls invaded his mind, mocking him. His ears were muffled by his increasingly labored breathing. His thinking was deafened by the thundering roar of breaking waves of confusion. Hector felt all the blood drop from his face, while his heart raced unhealthily.

_what can a plebeian human man ever give to a woman of her status_

Tears reached his eyes as one single horrific thought invaded his head.

Lenore could leave him.

A piece of his heart shattered.

Hector immediately shook his head trying to reason with himself. The Forgemaster forced himself to calm down and summon logic. He had no idea who this Mykola guy was. He could be lying. He could be making this all up. But then, why would he be lying? What would he gain with that? Was it that improbable, what the vampire had said about Lenore?

A wave of panic swept over his body. The emotions were too raw and too strong to allow his mind to think properly. Hector tried to grasp his mind around the revelation he just received. He took a trembling deep breath. His chest was starting to hurt. Mykola’s words twisted and twirled around his mind, fragmented thoughts made it impossible to think straight.

_Free spirit. Royalty. Easily bored._

Hector pressed his hand on his chest, his labored breathing crushing his lungs. A wave of unbearable sorrow eclipsed all happy memories as one thought emerged dominant.

Lenore could leave him.

A piece of his soul cracked.

A cold chill runs through his body while insecurity haunted his being. Lenore was one of Styria’s rulers, a vampire ten times stronger than him, a woman proficient in the arts of wording. She had tricked him once with the ring. Had she lied too about her intentions? Was what they had no more than a fling? A temporary passionate thing? Because really, what could he ever give to Lenore that she didn’t already have? In which plane could he ever be a match for her?

Hector froze and stared confused at his doorstep. He could not remember walking in the last part. He had not realized, at some point in his trepidation, he had resumed his walk. He opened the door and entered his home feeling lightheaded. Lenore had given him this house. Only his. Their home. Lenore had given him all the comforts he could wish for. She even had managed to give him a place in the Council. Why would she go through all this trouble if she didn’t have real feelings for him? But the real question was not if she had feelings for him, was it? The real question was, for how long?

_She simply gets bored very easily_

Lenore could leave him.

His life would be over.

“Lenore?” He called out but received no answer.

It was still early. Hector closed his eyes and two tears ran down his cheeks like translucid pearls. A sad shaky breath. He was no match for her. He had nothing to offer. He was nothing but a human smith. Hector took a long deep breath to calm down. Lenore was giving her best in their relation. She wasn’t forced to demonstrate the respect and equality she had been showing lately. She had to like him genuinely. The looks she gave him, the touches, the tenderness, the passion they shared had to be real. His mind urged him to stop worrying. But then it told him, he didn’t know anything about her past. He didn’t, effectively, know anything about her. And wondered why she never told him anything.

The Devil’s Forgermaster wiped the moisture off his face. There was not much he could do but wait. Perhaps a warm bath would ease his anxiety. And when Lenore would be back, they would talk.

…

Lenore wasn’t having the best week of her life. First, it had been Carmilla. Her accusation had left a bitter aftertaste on the redhead’s tongue. Their discussion’s closure had been sweet and soothing, yet, Carmilla’s words echoed in Lenore’s head and taunted her the following days. The queen of Styria had hurt Lenore more than expected.

Then it was Striga. Lenore had been surprised when the tall vampire, just a few days later, asked to talk in private. The warrior rarely interfered in anybody’s personal affairs and yet, there she was, telling Lenore she had something important to say about Hector. Striga had often stated she was a bad judge in the matters of the heart and yet, there she was, telling her Hector’s past was weighing heavily on him.

“It’s not my place to tell you.”

Striga had firmly told Lenore after the redhead asked what they had talked about. The warrior vampire was respecting the privacy of her conversation with the Forgemaster. The way she saw it, Hector was the one with the right to answer that to Lenore. “All I can say is that Hector is scarred by his struggles with society. I’m telling you this because I too used to keep it all to myself. I too did my best to hide my pains from the world, while it ate me from the inside.”

Lenore headed to Hector’s house with Striga’s words repeating in her mind. She was absolutely frustrated because the man always dodged any question related to his past before Dracula. He always changed the subject and when that didn’t work, he succeeded in silencing her with kisses and caresses until she would surrender to his touch. Lenore scolded herself internally because she always had been aware of it. She knew the bastard was using sex to distract her, to escape the confrontation, and she, stupidly, was always too weak, always too willing to give in.

Then again, Hector was not the only one unwilling to talk about the past. Sweet kisses and passionate sex were preferable alternatives to digging up painful memories. Her husband was not the only one who hesitated when they laid comfortable in an embrace during their afterglow. Those were the moments she could almost taste words carried with ancient hurt reach her tongue but die in her mouth. It was easier to ignore the hurtful truth with pleasure than to confront it.

Now, Striga’s words fed the young vampire’s heart with concerns. The warrior rarely cared for other people, aside from her sisters. The fact she demonstrated concern towards Hector made the whole thing seem much more urgent than Lenore had ever imagined. Alas, the vampire girl had not had the courage to confront her own past nor Hector’s. Instead, she let herself be swept by the whirlpool of false security and temporary pleasure. Each day she promised herself she would talk with Hector, each day she delayed the moment. Until, one early morning, fate caught up with her.

As soon as the redhead entered the Forgemaster’s house and saw Hector in the living room, she sensed something was off. The man was sitting on the couch’s edge, his body slightly bent over, his elbows resting on his lap, while he fidgeted with his hands. His hair was damp from the bath, but unlike usual, his curls were unkept and their ends were still dribbling. He did not look at her when Lenore greeted. He bit his underlip. Hector looked extremely nervous.

“Is everything all right?” Lenore asked apprehensively while she tentatively took a step forward. Hector halted his fidgeting, his back straightened and a hesitance followed.

“No, not everything is all right.” His voice came hoarse and low, his eyes never meeting Lenore’s. They were instead fixed on an invisible point ahead of him.

“What’s the matter?” The redhead asked concerned and Hector finally looked at her. His face was unnaturally pale, his expression tired, his eyes sad and anxious. His quiet nervousness was contagious and Lenore took a few steps to sit down next to him. She took his hands on hers. They felt cold. She locked her red eyes on his, soft and caring, and read insecurity. “Hector?”

“Are you – royalty?” He posed the question without ceremonies in a hoarse whisper, while his eyes glinted from fear and hurt.

“Is that relevant?” The vampire girl gently asked, and the expression of hurt in Hector’s aquamarine’s eyes only intensified.

“Is it not?” His voice was so broken, his look so lost, Lenore instantly knew there was much more behind that question.

“Who told you that?” Lenore asked quietly and the man’s eyes darkened, the first hint of impatience reaching them

“Are you a royalty or not?” The Forgemaster insisted upset and Lenore exhaled defeated.

“Yes. I was niece to Mstislav I Vladimirovich and granddaughter to Vladimir II Monomakh. I was born in 1122 and grew up in the grand court of Kyiv.” She told, her hands gripping his cold ones. Shock and disbelief washed over his pale face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t seem important to me. It has been centuries. It doesn’t even feel like my past anymore.” Lenore sincerely told. “Why is this bothering you so much?”

“I – Uhm… It just makes no sense, Lenore.”

“What makes no sense?”

“You and me.” Hector quietly said, but the crack in his voice had been audible. He was so overwhelmed by nerves, so agitated, he released himself from Lenore’s comforting grip and stood up. “It makes no sense a vampire princess being married to a human plebeian.”

“Hector, I don’t care about social status.” Lenore started but the man interrupted her.

“But it makes no sense! It’s illogical, it’s irrational! Your world – my world… I cannot understand why you – it just makes no sense.” The man talked in broken fragments, the confusion of many unanswered questions driving him insane. Lenore could almost feel the nerves tingling under his skin. The vampire girl became worried. She never had seen him this anxious before. It had to be much more than her background that was bothering Hector. He was too restless, too agitated. Hector had a calm nature. He was a man of logic. But right now, he was sounding almost hysterical, on the verge of panic.

“Who did you talk with?” Lenore asked again while she stood up. Again, her hands sought his. She encircled her fingers around his and noticed the gesture brought some peace to him, like if he needed to feel her touch to reassure himself about something. She watched his Adam apple move while he swallowed some of his nerves away.

“Mykola of Ruthenia,” Hector told. He witnessed Lenore’s face tense and hold a sour expression. She should have expected that evil jerk to make a move of this kind. He was such a coward, always waiting for the right opportunity to hurt her. And going by the state Hector was in right now, only proved how low and wicked the man was.

“What else did that idiot tell you?”

“What is he to you?” Hector’s hands pressed hers and the look in his eyes was so pleading, she knew she needed to tell the truth. The whole truth.

“We were once lovers, a hundred years ago. I offended his ego by breaking up with him.” The redhead told and she felt Hector’s hands slip from hers.

“I should have guessed that. Well, I kind of expected that.” The Forgemaster said breathless but looking a bit relieved, although, most of his anxiety remained.

“Mykola is the revengeful type. He enjoys poisoning people’s minds to get back at me. Likes planting insecurities in them. People close to me, like you. So, he can hurt me indirectly.” Lenore explained, and Hector looked visibly more relaxed, although his eyes still revealed a lack of confidence. “What did he say to make you this nervous?”

“I don’t know anymore. He basically pointed out I don’t have it – what is needed to match your world. That I have nothing to offer you.” Hector spoke in a cracked voice, his eyes watering but bravely fighting the tears back. Blue and green shinned like the reflections of the sun on the water. Lenore melted at that lost look.

“Hector, I’ve told you before, I choose you,” Lenore spoke in such a soft and reassuring voice, Hector managed a timid smile. Their eyes were locked because she wanted him to see the sincerity in them. “I don’t care what your background is, I care about the person you are.”

“We are opposites, our worlds are opposites.” Hector insisted feeling broken, his mind already too infected by Mykola’s words. “You are a princess from a fucking empire while I’m a nobody. I’m a fucking mortal from a small insignificant island, banished by my own kind, holding no possessions than those you gave me! This can never work out because you’ll just grow bored with me and then you’ll leave me.”

Hector's teeth bit his lip. There it was. He finally vocalized his fear. He stared both afraid and expectant at the vampire, who stared back at him shocked. He had no idea how his words punched her heart. Carmilla’s voice returned to her head - _You always get bored after a few weeks_. The queen’s voice taunted her because there was some truth to it. Lenore did often end a relation on an early stage, like in the case of Mykola. But that was because she understood early on, they weren’t what she was looking for. Accusing her of getting bored quickly was an unjust and ignorant statement. People simply didn’t understand.

“Hector, please listen to me,” Lenore asked, a look of caring mixed with determination in her eyes. She came closer to Hector and rested her right hand on his cheek. “It is true I’ve broken up relations at their beginning in the past. But you must understand why. I have the luxury to do so.” She witnessed the fear and insecurity invade his watery eyes and rested her left hand on his chest, on his heart, sensing its frenetic heartbeat. “You are in your right to think there’s nothing you can offer me. But you are wrong. There is still something very important I am missing in my life and I truly believe you can give that to me. Because you are already giving. And that is love, Hector.”

Lenore’s thumb wiped a tear that finally escaped from his eyes. The Forgemaster was losing his struggle in biting back his emotions but was winning his battle in allowing himself to be vulnerable in her presence. The redhead was proud of her husband because he was strong even in his weakness. “You see when you have everything in your life like me - power, status, friends, sisters, riches; you can be picky. What is the sense of adding somebody in my life if that person can’t add anything to it? That is the reason I broke up with Mykola and others in the past. They were taking away my happiness instead of giving it.”

The redhead could feel a knot constrict in her throat because a few more tears escaped freely from the aquamarine orbs. She never had seen somebody crying like this. Quietly, silently. Not a sound escaped his throat. Not even a shaky breath. It was beautifully heartbreaking. The vampire girl cupped her husband’s face and her fingertips wiped the moisture away. He blinked away the final tears and failed to smile timidly. “You, sweetie, are the first man to ever truly make me happy. Because I know you are real. You are genuine. Not to mention, you have way more qualities than those blockheads I went out with in the past.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” Hector finally managed a small amused chuckled.

Lenore smiled concernedly. She was going to beat the shit out of Mykola. The male vampire had seen right through Hector. He had broken down his defenses and struck the Forgemaster’s deepest insecurities, his flawed self-image, and his low self-esteem. He attacked the human’s vulnerabilities to the point of throwing him completely off balance, blinding him with fear to the point of Hector losing the grip of reality.

“Come on, Hector. You are a Devil’s Forgemaster. You wield one of the most difficult arts of magic in the world. Your talent and your intellect made you a General chosen by the Lord of Vampires himself! I know things didn’t go the way you wished for, but Carmilla took you as a prisoner because of your abilities.” Lenore told passionate, desperate to make him understand what she saw in him. What he truly was. “Not to mention, you have the strength and resilience that few have. No matter how bad things are, you simply don’t stop believing in yourself. And that takes courage, Hector. A lot of courage. You don’t need to come from royalty or display a stupid title for others to see, because you are a fucking amazing person and don’t ever let anybody else say the contrary!”

“You’re delirious.” The Forgemaster said after a short pause, his tone playful. He smiled and planted a chaste kiss on Lenore’s head. “Can you guarantee me you won’t get bored with me?”

“Can you guarantee me you won’t either?” The redhead wittily retorted, to which Hector smiled in irony, understanding it was impossible to foresee such a thing.

“Yeah, you must think I’m stupid.” He sheepishly said and Lenore knew he was finally calm enough to think straight again.

“No. Just insecure,” Lenore told while she brushed a curly lock away from his pretty face.

The tears were dry and there was barely any reminiscent of his sadness. The man’s accelerated heartbeat had returned to its normal beat. A tired but sincere smile hung on his lips, while his eyes lacked the earlier fear. Instead, they stared back at Lenore with tender adoration. In a lifetime of centuries, Hector was the first man to ever look that way at Lenore and that made her little dead heart beat a bit faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hector - «“I was born with magic but had to learn to master it.»  
> Mykola - «Is there a school of dark arts?»
> 
> Me - YEAH! Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! I can't believe they didn't send a letter to Hector. Maybe they didn't accept Muggleborns in the 1400's. He surely would have landed on the House of Ravenclaw - values intelligence, learning, wisdom and wit, house colours are blue and bronze (according to Wikipedia blue and silver in the «Harry Potter» and «Fantastic Beasts» films). 
> 
> Hey, I'm giving ideas for a crossover! Please, anybody, do take the challenge!


	14. Hector

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> Writer: Darktragicangel
> 
> Beta: Shadowking514
> 
> Thank you for your patience! It means a lot to me, just like it is a relieve not to be set under pressure because of my delay. I had some shortage of time to write this chapter, but it was mainly the complexity of this topic that made it so hard to finish the chapter. You all know, by now, I don’t post until I’m truly satisfied with a chapter and it really took a long time before I thought – this is it!
> 
> I honestly think, this was my most difficult chapter to write up to now and I think you all already understand why, going by the title. I hope I nailed it. Let me know what you think in the comment section below.
> 
> Enjoy the reading. Next week will (try to) post the new chapter from «Somewhere between».

“I cannot believe I let myself be all worked up by that asshole.” Hector murmured in a frustrated tone before he took a fork to his mouth. “It’s like I cannot discern dishonesty on any fucking situation.”

After things were clarified, the Forgemaster finally perceived properly what had happened that early morning. Lenore set up the table for diner, while she listened to his more detailed recount about what happened. The more Hector looked back, the more he identified the signs of malice on Mykola’s discourse, gestures, and expressions. The more he rewound the event, the more he felt stupid for letting himself be caught in the other man’s web of intrigue. The redhead did her best to comfort her husband by not making a great deal of it because she noticed the man was becoming increasingly annoyed by his own gullibility. Hector was becoming aware of, perhaps, his greatest flaw.

“Don’t blame yourself. _That asshole_ has that kind of effect on people.” Lenore tried to ease his frustration by using a dismissive tone, attempting not to give to much importance in the matter. Hector’s nerves were still tormenting him.

“It’s just – this is all still so surreal. I don’t think my mind has managed to grasp this – what should I call it? A new reality.” Hector told upset, lifting his hand and making a half-circle in the air. Lenore involuntarily mused how he always used his hands like an extension to his thoughts when he was more passionate or involved in a certain subject. “You, the vampires, the castle, the council, the forging… I mean, it hasn’t been two complete months since Brailla and already so many things have happened and changed that I – that nothing seems real.”

“I guess it is quite a lot to process in a short time.” Lenore agreed, thinking of how unfair it was he barely had a break from his ordeal, barely had time to adjust to this new life.

A fleeting sentiment of guilt hit her. She had contributed to most of Hector’s life alterations, even though, most of them were for his benefit. She thought it curious, three weeks prior, she didn’t really consider how the man would react to his new life. Three weeks prior, she was solely focused on giving him all the comforts and luxuries she could. Back then, in her mind, Hector should be thankful for her generosity and accept his new life with conformity. So, right now, the vampire became very self-conscious of how much she cared for his general well-being. Physically, mentally, emotionally. It surprised her, in such a short time, she cared for what he thought, what he felt, what he wanted. His needs became her needs. Everything regarding Hector transcended the material level. Comfort and luxury became trifling because Lenore’s main priority had become Hector’s happiness. Her heart skipped once at this realization. Her thoughts were broken by the man’s voice.

“I usually adapt quite quickly to new circumstances.” Hector contemplated out loud like he was talking more to himself than to Lenore.

“You do?” Lenore questioned and he nodded. “Why is that?”

“Good question. I don’t know. Maybe because, before all this – before Dracula, I was always in the move. Never stayed longer than three months in the same place. I was finally living a whole year in the same address, on my home island, when Vlad Tepes shows up asking me to help him with his war.” Hector told in a half complaining, half sulking tone. He took a longer sip on his wine. “Should have never agreed, would not be in this mess.”

“Have you considered this might be your chance to finally find some stability in your, let’s call it, nomadic lifestyle?” Lenore wittily pointed out and Hector chuckled amused. “Besides, if you would have refused Dracula’s call, we would never have met.” At this, Hector lifted his head a bit, to rest his eyes on Lenore’s. He looked at her like he was wondering something. Then a soft and sincere smiled reached his lips. Lenore’s heart warmed a bit at that smile. She was learning, she could not resist it. Also, she decided to take advantage of his talkative mood to dig up a bit of Hector’s past. Carmilla and Striga’s voices were still taunting her mind, reminding her of how little she knew about his life. “Why were you always moving from one place to the other, anyway? Was it because of your magic?”

“Yes, I had some problems in hiding my magic or interest in the obscure arts, mainly in the beginning. The reanimated animals might have given me away, you know. And I think the fact I never set a foot in church didn’t put me in a favorable light either.” Hector told in a mix of embarrassment and mischief.

“Are you afraid of combusting in flames if you enter one?” Lenore playfully asked, proud for earning a spontaneous snicker from the man.

“No, of course not. I have nothing against the building itself. It’s the masses I dread. They are so boring, I swear, after five minutes I already become drowsy.”

“I quite enjoyed it, back in the day. But it was mainly for the choirs.” The vampire confessed. “Did you always live in Rhodes?”

“No, I left the island when I was 16. Went to Turkey in search of a master's in necromancy.”

“Going by your talent, I suppose your search was successful.”

“It was. I found Master Djāmī Nur-Al-Din in a small village called Bulduk. He was no Forgemaster but was a philosopher spiritualist and necromancy. Very strict and very demanding teacher. Quite the wishful and eccentric guy too. People thought I was crazy for wanting to be under his apprenticeship.”

“It fits your character. You are persistent. And perhaps you also enjoyed the challenge?”

“I think it was more ambition than persistence. Master Nur-Al-Din’s was notorious for his magic talents. He was acclaimed for it in whole Turkey and the Aegean region. And I only wanted the best of the best.” The Devil’s Forgemaster clarified with a glint in his eyes. “As for the challenge, I had already quite a training with my father. Compared to him, Master Nur-Al-Din was, let’s say, amenable.”

“Your father was a strict teacher?”

“You have no idea.” Hector said in a too casual manner, but with a nervous dark tone. He hurriedly returned to his account about his training, undeniably avoiding his father as a conversation topic. “Anyway, Master Djāmī Nur-Al-Din disciplinary teachings were worthwhile. He taught me about the ways of the soul, which was crucial for me to figure out the different manners for creating life from death.”

Lenore nodded, signing she was listening to his recount with interest while pretending she didn’t notice he was deflecting talking about his father. This was not the first time he quickly changed the course of a conversation to avoid discussing his parents. Lenore understood this was a sensitive topic for Hector, clearly something he wasn’t willing to talk about. Perhaps, he was not ready to talk about it. The redhead knew, eventually, she would have to find a way to bounce their dialogue back to his childhood and treat the matter with a lot of caution. So, for now, she allowed him to talk about things he was comfortable sharing. She had to guide him carefully through calm waters before they hit the rapids. Hector had to feel completely relaxed if he was going to open up to her. Pressing him would only cause resistance and hostility.

“I thought there was only one way. By forging.” Lenore told in a surprised tone, knowing how passionate Hector was about his trade.

“No, that is one of the techniques. When forging, I’m using a corpse as an empty vessel to put a soul from Hell in it and create a new creature. A second method is reviving a person.” The Forgemaster enthusiastically told, his hands talking altogether. “This one is tricky. Many misunderstand it as resurrection, but it isn’t. When reviving a corpse, the soul has departed the body and it cannot be retrieved anymore. But, the memory of the deceased is still in the brain. I basically awaken the brain so the corpse will perform familiar tasks. It becomes a soulless corpse working in an automatic manner. I used this technique on the bishop in Brailla, as a request from Carmilla.”

“Oh, I remember, she told me about it. He blessed the river by turning the water holy.”

“Exactly. It was quite spectacular. He was standing in the water, so he combusted in flames caused by his own blessing. There was something disturbingly poetic about it.” Hector told while the mental image of the bishop swallowed by blue fire returned to his mind. “The third technique I have mastered is more of a natural talent I was born with. I’m not sure other Forgemasters use it – but anyway, I can resurrect animals. So, the animal is dead, and the soul has departed. I then create a new life from magic, and it becomes a kind of replica of the animal’s soul. Then I insert this _double_ soul in the corpse and the animal is reanimated with their original memory and personality. I used to do this all the time when I was a child. Drove my parents insane.” He said the last part low and Lenore picked the resentment in his last words. The human, unknowingly, had just opened enough space with his last phrase for the vampire to start steering the conversation carefully towards his childhood memories.

“You have to agree, it is quite out of the ordinary, having a living corpse as a pet.”

“Yes. But I was _very_ attached to my pets.” Hector told in almost a helpless way. “When I discovered I could revive them, I was thrilled. I was, of course, the only one who thought that way.”

“What happened to your revived pets?”

“If my parents, or anybody else in the village, would get their hands on them; they would burn them alive, preferably while I was watching, so I would learn my lesson and not repeat the deed.” Hector told deadpanned, too casually, despite the boiling anger mixed with desperate pain already hitting his heart.

“My God, that’s horrible!” Lenore exclaimed shocked at the man’s revelation.

She had expected Hector to have a difficult childhood, but she was completely unprepared for this. The vampire could not imagine the mental scars such a traumatic experience would have on a child. A nauseating sensation invaded her stomach at the concept, Hector’s own parents, the two people who should love and care for him the most; would inflict this atrocious kind of torture on their own child. How could a child’s fragile heart deal with the memory of watching, impotent, a beloved pet being burned alive? How could a child’s defenseless brain wrap the idea around his mind, he was being held responsible for the pet’s second death? It was an abhorrent, an appalling punishment that could only generate long-term psychological damage.

“Yes, they were harmless, but people just wouldn’t see that.” Hector told revolted and Lenore’s shock only grew. He didn’t even realize she was horrified for what he witnessed as a child. Hector was more upset about his pet’s fate than his own pains. “I tried to make them see the advantages of having an undead animal for certain tasks. Like using revived horses or oxen for agriculture, but nobody would listen to me. If anything, they only got more infuriated. You, vampires, use undead horses for long travels, right?”

“Y-Yes.” Lenore stuttered still recovering from her shock. She nervously took a sip of the wine, trying to understand how it was possible he was more upset people hurt his pets and didn’t understand his vision than the torture they made him undergo. “Undead horses are ideal because they don’t need to drink, eat, and rest.” She added and then lifted her large red eyes to meet Hector’s. “How old were you, when you started reviving animals?”

Hector froze for a moment, the question sinking in his mind. He read the shock and the concern in Lenore’s widened eyes and realized he had fallen in a trap made by himself. He had somehow ranted about his pets being killed, without even realizing he was already talking about his childhood. This was something he had been purposely avoiding. Because it only made him upset. Sick, sad, revolted. He didn’t want to remember. He didn’t want to go back to that time when he was powerless, defenseless, scared, and desperate. He had spent years running away from his past by preventing thinking of it, by never talking about it. He thought, if he ignored his memories long enough, time would erase them. Make him forget. Hector knew he had been fooling himself all those years. Because the past had finally caught up to him. There was no more running away.

Red orbs stared back at him in fright. He had already given too much information to avoid this conversation any longer. It was useless to try and pretend his past was forgotten. He could as well just confront it. With a bit of luck, Lenore would show understanding instead of pity. With a bit of luck, she could make him feel less bad about himself. The Forgemaster refilled his glass of wine. His forehead wrinkled with some anxiety, his eyes glinted of frightening determination. He took a deep breath.

“I was ten.”

A thick heavy mournful silence.

“I had lost my puppy, Atlas. I grew up with him since I was a toddler.” Hector retold with unease, his memory returning to that one specific warm afternoon. “I found Atlas dead and, I don’t know... How does a ten-year-old deal with death? That dog was my best friend. He was family to me. My most precious treasure. And suddenly was dead. An empty carcass, being eaten by crows.”

A long breath intake followed by a shaky sigh.

“I guess I couldn’t bear the idea he was gone. For good. I guess I grasped onto that hope there was somehow a way of bringing him back. I had read, in one of my father’s books, about forging with the sound of metal. I had these two old worthless coins with alchemist symbols on them, my father once gave me; and carried them around in my pocket. I gave it a try. Hit them one against the other. Again and again. Till there was a sparkle. Till the metallic vibration filled the air. I had not expected it to work, but it did. God, I was so happy.”

The Forgemaster whispered, while the pain was already reaching his eyes. A sad smile. “I took Atlas back home. A half decomposed living carcass. My mother started screaming. My father lost his head. He grabbed the poor thing and threw it into a fireplace.”

The last words came out in a choke. Hector closed his eyes. His vision was filled with the image of the defenseless dog squirming of pain while flames bit his rotting flesh. His ears were filled with the puppy’s chilling wailing of agony. He remembered he had screamed hysterically until he's lost his voice. He remembered watching the dog become black while breathing the stench of burned flesh. He remembered his father gripped his arms tightly to prevent him from running to the fireplace; telling him, repeatedly, to watch. He remembered sobbing for long hours, begging Atla’s for forgiveness, while he lay on the floor in front of the fireplace. The flames were extinguished, his pet stiff and carbonized. His parents had left him there, alone and abandoned in his grief, his guilt, his confusion. They had gone on with their daily tasks and ignored him completely for the rest of the day.

A horribly uncomfortable quietness followed the disturbing tale. Hector was unable to look straight at Lenore. Her expression of horror was too much for him. He struggled to hold a stoic face, a carefully built fake façade of controlled quietness. He struggled in hiding the real painful ache, hiding the truthful bubbling of anger and revolt. “Naturally, I had countless nightmares with Atlas’ howls. Didn’t stop me from forging. Every time a revived animal was burned, I thought I would never forge again. But every time I found a dead animal, I couldn’t help myself. I could not accept their death, knowing I had the power of giving them new life. I did my best to hide the reanimated pets, but sooner or later, they were always found. And so, I, my parents, the villagers; we all lived in this maddening never-ending spiral of life and death.”

“God, Hector. That is…” Lenore, who was always so articulate, was truly lost for words. She could not possibly picture the trauma, de nauseating horror of experiencing such a thing. He had been too young, too small to witness something this horrific, this disgustingly cruel. “Your own parents. How could they?”

A cynical chuckle. A flash of pain across the face.

“My parents weren’t nice people.” Hector said in a bitter compliant smile. A smile that told life was a bitch and sometimes there was nothing you could do but accept it. “My father was a narcissist. All he cared about were his own successes. The only thing he cared about me was my study results. Further, I was pretty much invisible to him.” The human said in a too-casual tone. Too forcefully mellow. He was boiling in nerves, cooking anger and sorrow under his skin. “My father homeschooled me and, although I’ll admit he was a genius, he was a tyrant. Failure was out of the question because in his freaking sick mind, my accomplishments in education were a reflection of his own successes or failures.”

“What happened if you didn’t match his expectations?” The redhead questioned already afraid of the answer. Hector took another sip of his wine, the food on his plate by now cold and forgotten.

“Physical punishment would follow, of course.” Hector said so coolly that Lenore felt a chill run down her spine. It worried her, how he made it sound so banal. This had been the reality he grew up with. Despite how terrifying it had to be for a child to endure such pressure, this somehow had been the normality to Hector. How could someone learn to accept this kind of pain, these traumas, the abuses, and somehow, still give meaning to their life? “Five-eyed Mary. It was a dreadful wooden flat slotted spoon with five holes in it. Whenever I was distracted, or failed in something, disobeyed him, whatever – my father would hit my left hand with five-eyed Mary, sparing my right hand so I could continue writing.”

The vampire girl closed her eyes for a moment. The ghastly image of a small version of Hector taking a hard hit on his little frail hand invaded her mind. I was beyond her comprehension that anybody could come up with a torture device for children. I was beyond her comprehension a father would cause such pain to his own child. His own flesh and blood. Hector’s quiet voice made her reopen her eyes. “Unfortunately, physical punishment was an ordinary thing in Rhodes. Especially in the countryside, where I grew up. It was the church itself that encouraged parents to beat their children into respect and obedience.”

“That is – such an appalling concept.” Lenore said in a chocked voice while she refilled her own glass of wine. The bottle was going down pretty fast. “And your mother? Did she have anything to say in any of this?” Her heart sunk when Hector emitted the most bitter, cold, and cynical chuckle he ever produced. His aquamarine eyes gained an unfamiliar coldness, losing their natural brightness. Just like his face became hard and tense before he spoke.

“My mother never wanted me, Lenore.” Hector told her in such a derisive tone, it actually made her insides turn. “I was the reason for everything that went wrong in her life.”

“B-But why – h-how?” The vampire stuttered unable to believe the man sitting opposite her had such an undeservingly harsh childhood.

“I was an accident! I was not supposed to be born! My parents weren’t supposed to marry!” Hector’s voice rose suddenly rasp and angry. He finally lost his cool. Remembering his mother was the trigger to finally release all his repressed feelings. “My parents fucked in some stupid religious feast like the two mindless idiots they were and I was the result of their life’s greatest mistake! They were forced to marry, while they barely knew each other, and all their stupid dreams and ambitions went down the drain with my birth! That is why both my parents fucking hated me and that is why they fucking made my life a fucking Hell until I could no longer take any of that fucking shit anymore and brought an end to it all!!!”

Hector’s loud shouting rose to the ceiling. By the end of his enraged ranting, he was standing, his hands supporting his weight on the table, while he literally screamed at Lenore. His face had gained unfamiliar lines of sheer rage, his eyes shone with revolted tears on the verge of falling. Lenore flinched a few times when a higher furious note would hit the walls, the echoes of helplessness, of revulsion, of misery falling around them like toxic dust. The redhead stared at the Forgemaster, eyes widened and watery, her dead heart beating fast and hard. Hector closed his eyes and bend his head for a few seconds. A sniff was audible and a trembling breath. His rage quickly receded, and the man lifted his head again, his eyes averting Lenore’s shocked look. His face translated his struggle to keep his turbulent emotions at bay. After taking a couple of deep breaths, he continued, this time talking with a trembling voice.

“I set the house in fire. I trapped my parents inside the house, made sure they could not exit, and set the house in fire. I used Greek fire. I stood outside until their screams died along with them. I needed to make sure they were really dead.” A couple of stubborn tears escaped his eyes and he quickly wiped them away with the back of his hand. His gaze avoided Lenore’s and his voice carried a heavyweight of regret in his following words. “It was an impulsive act. I didn’t even measure the amount of Greek Fire. Used way too much and there was wind, a lot of wind that night. The fire got out of control in an instant. It traveled quickly from house to house, till the whole damned village was in flames. I managed to escape and ran to the top of a high hill. And from there I could see the devastation I caused. People were already in their beds and had no time to flee. Everybody in my village died that night, except me.”

Hector sat down again, looking exhausted. Lenore softly called out his name once, but he didn’t react. Her small hand reached for his, but he moved it away in a flinch. Their eyes finally met. The look he gave her was haunting. Lenore moved her hand a second time, slowly, while her eyes did not leave his. This time he did not move away and allowed her fingers to encircle his. Some tears escaped his eyes and Hector wiped them away hurriedly. Everybody had paid for their crimes with their lives on that fateful night. Even without it being his intention, he believed their deaths in the burning flames, was their deserved punishment. His only regret was the children. It seemed children were always adults’ collateral. That night, the little that was left of his childhood had died along with the flames. He was left with the ashes of his memories and his hatred for humankind.

“The tragedy of the burned village traveled throughout whole Rhodes. How and why it happened remained a mystery for everybody, and dozens of wild theories were born. I went to the capital and left my past behind. Never have I uttered my birth village’s name, or my family’s name, or my parents since then.”

The man concluded his grim tale. That night, he had left his horrifying past behind. Closed the door behind him and never looked back. He opened a new chapter in his life, one in which he was doomed to roam alone like he always did. And any ill-intentioned human who had the misfortune to cross his path would be equally domed. Hector resented cruelty but had no issues in taking revenge and delivering a quick death. He wondered to what point he was the same or worse than his parents or the villagers. He was the product of cruelty, spreading destruction among the rest of humankind with his night creatures. Yet, he still carried some kind of twisted hope. That by destroying an old rotten world, a new, more kind and balanced one could be built.

“Are you all right?” Lenore asked concerned, for the Forgemaster had a vacant stare. Her hand was still holding his and she gave it a gentle squeeze. Hector’s eyes widened a bit, like if he was suddenly awakened from a strange daydream.

“Yes. I am.” He told in a whisper. “I’m sorry I shouted at you.”

“It’s okay. You were just venting. You’ve been bottling this up for too long, haven’t you?”

“Since I was 15.” Hector confessed with a shake of his shoulders and the redhead gave a compassionate look of disbelief. “I never told this to anybody.”

“Not even to Dracula?” Lenore asked surprised.

“Not even to Dracula. I only told him I was rejected by my parents and the rest of the village because of the revived pets.” Hector told with a tired, but sincere timid smile. The redhead felt her heart skip a beat at the revelation. She had hoped he would open up to her about his troublesome memories, but the knowledge she was the first person he confided his past, made her feel privileged and accomplished.

“How do you feel now?” Lenore kindly asked while she looked at the man lovingly. Hector, whose tears had already dried out, felt his face warm up at that expression. He smiled shyly and contemplated her question for a moment.

“I feel… lighter.” He honestly said, his tone revealing his surprise. “Like a weight got lifted from my shoulders.”

“Thank you for confiding me.” Lenore told, her eyes locked on his, her eyes reflecting adoration. Their hands were still intertwined, and Hector felt his heart speed up. The intimacy, the gentleness of this moment was overwhelming and bit too much for him to digest. It felt wonderful, but still strange, opening his heart to another person. It felt comforting, but still unfamiliar. He gave a quick soft squeeze against Lenore’s hand, before releasing himself from her tender grip.

“Thank you for listening.” _And not judging, or condemning, or shouting insults at me_ , he wanted to add, but the words died in his mouth. He shook the odd pleasant overwhelming feelings away and whished to think about something else. “Please tell me you had a happier childhood than mine.”

“I had.” Lenore told with a nod and a reassuring tone. She looked down at their plates. “Best we put this food away and keep it for later. I doubt you have an appetite right now.”

Hector shook his head with an apologetic look. He watched the vampire stand up and clean the table. He too stood up, intending to help the redhead, but the world suddenly moved unbalanced and he quickly sat down again.

“Are you all right?” Lenore asked surprised and he chuckled sheepishly.

“I might have drunk a bit too much wine.” He confessed and pouted upset when Lenore took the bottle and his empty glass away with a reproving look. “Am all right, really.”

“Go seat on the couch. I’m making some tea.” Lenore ordered and Hector slowly and carefully stood up, his hands supporting his weight on the table. He paced slightly unbalanced to the couch, while the floor and the walls seemed to swing from one side to the other.

“Tea won’t be hardly strong enough to drown these fucking – whatever…” Lenore heard Hector mumble to himself and ignored his complaints. She knew alcohol was the last thing he was needing right now. It would only stir up his emotions even more until he would stop thinking properly.

While Lenore stood in the kitchen alone, waiting for the water to cook, she pondered if she should tell about her life before becoming a vampire. She concluded Hector deserved to know her past. After all, he trusted her with his. The redhead smiled, while she put some dried chamomile in the teapot; thinking today was a victory for both of them. Hector had finally found enough courage in himself to lower his strongholds around his heart and mind. He finally had trusted her enough to reveal a secret he had been carrying alone for a decade. Him confiding to her made her feel both humbled and honored.

The vampire still could not believe how ridiculously cruel his childhood had been and was glad he finally managed to confront his past. Lenore was sure there were many more unpleasant tales hidden under his tongue. Other episodes of violence and grief. Other hurtful memories about his parents, about his community, his years spent in exclusion and solitude. But there were more days to come. She was sure, now that the first step was taken, Hector would talk about his past with more ease. He could, eventually, even start the conversation; if he was in the mood if he felt like he needed to. Lenore poured the hot water in the teapot and placed it on the tray, along with the two teacups. She headed to the living room and smiled when Hector’s eyes met her. She placed the tray on the table, sat next to the man, and handed him the cup with tea. He looked a bit tired, his eyes barely puffed, and the earlier sadness and anger had died away. A glint brightened his eyes and a slightly mischievous grin reached his lips. Lenore had to giggle at his following words, as they broke the ice and gave her the needed nudge to start her story.

“I bet you were a spoiled princess brat in Kiev.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The punishment instrument – Five-eyed Mary - used by Hector’s father is a real thing. It was used in Portugal (maybe in other countries too) during the 19th and 20th century in schools with normality as part of Educational Punishment. In Portuguese it’s called “Menina dos cinco olhos” (girl with 5 eyes; because of the 5 holes) and if you type it in Goggle, you can find images of it. There are still many people in Portugal, from the older generations, that are traumatized to this day.
> 
> The piece about the Church having a lot of influence in parenting is burrowed from my father’s childhood’s accounts. He grew up in a rather poor and isolated village, in a typical catholic farmer’s family (9 children) and he lived during the Dictatorship of Salazar (1933-1974). He told me it was normal for children to be slapped or severely beaten up by their parents. The Church stimulated this kind of child abuse, which was seen, at the time, as an Educational Punishment (the “Menina dos cinco olhos” was still used in schools). My father told me, the parents who didn’t punish their children physically were perceived as bad parents. My father’s account is just one of millions in Portugal (and surely many other countries) and its hard to imagine this was the normality only 50 years ago and is normality still, in plenty of countries.


	15. Lenore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> Writer: Darktragicangel
> 
> Beta: Shadowking514
> 
> 15 chapters! We reached 15 chapters! I can't believe it myself.
> 
> I want to thank EVERYBODY that has been so sweet to leave kuddos and write comments these last 14 chapters! I have the feeling I keep repeating this, but I'll continue saying it. It is so motivating, so much fun, interacting and exchanging ideas with you all! I don't think I ever had this much feedback and intereaction in such a regular and loyal way like in this story. It really warms my heart and gives me the drive to continue writing (and also distracts me from the layoff and the whole Corona situation). Thank you. It means a lot.
> 
> I think most of you had already expected this chapter to be Lenorecentric. I hope you will enjoy! 
> 
> Good readings!

It was incredible how one single sentence had the power to lighten up the atmosphere. One little quip had the power of sending away the thick air of sadness and tension that had been hovering above them. Lenore emitted a sincere and carefree giggle and Hector smiled a bit timid. The Forgemaster was relief his remark had the effect he wanted. Just like he was glad his hands weren’t shaking when he picked up the teacup, because he still could feel the nervous tremors under his skin. He welcomed the soothing scent of chamomile. He closed his eyes, while taking a sip, the warmness and aroma appeasing his twisting stomach.

It had not been his intention to talk about his parents, even more, that much. He was glad he did. It felt like he emptied a bucket polluted by bad memories, loaded by much rancor and hurt. He was still feeling lightheaded from the aftereffects of releasing too many negative emotions, which had been repressed for too long; but he could feel both his mind and body settle in tranquil waters. Ultimately, he was positively surprised it had been so easy to open up to Lenore. The vampire was such a sweet girl. There was no hint of any kind of demeaning pity, or of horrorstruck judgment. There was a shock, yes. There was a concern, yes. There was compassion too. But most importantly, there was acceptance. Hector only now realized that had been all he ever needed.

“So, how was it, growing up in the Kievan court?” The Forgemaster added while shaking off the remnants of his turmoil. He was craving for mental rest, something to distract him and take his mind off his parents. He needed to hear something pleasant. Like Lenore’s soothing voice. “Did you have normal loving parents?”

Lenore looked at the man. It was remarkable how fast he recovered from his upheaval. It was exactly this kind of perseverance that had impressed her, the first time they met. Hector was right about having the capacity of adapting quickly. In just some minutes, he went from wild and explosive, to mellow, kind, and even humorous. Lenore wondered where he found the mental strength to pull himself out of such an ordeal. This had to be his most important survival skill, to recover quickly and move on after a hard trial. Because she was sure Hector had enough baggage to live in constant gloominess, enough reasons to sink into a deep depression, enough motivation to have suicidal thoughts. Somehow, he didn’t allow himself to break. Her red orbs shone from gentle adoration. She was both impressed and proud of her mortal husband.

“I’m sure they would have if they had had the chance.” Lenore answered with a kind smile and witnessed perplexity across the man’s face. “Both my parents died before I could even remember them. My mother died a couple of days after giving birth to me. She was daughter to the Earl of Cornwall and had traveled all the way from Britain to Kyiv to marry my father. He was son to Vladimir II Monomakh and heir to the Principality of Pereyaslavl but passed away before his succession. He died when I was two years old in a battle.”

“I’m sorry about that… Is it true, orphan children miss their parents?” Hector asked curiously. Lenore could not imagine being the first orphan he encountered, but probably the first he dared a conversation and posed the burning question.

“It is.” Lenore acknowledged and then smiled, almost guiltily. “I was, and I must admit, terribly spoiled during my childhood.” Hector snorted and the vampire gave a playful slap on his arm. “I think everybody wanted to overcompensate my parent’s absence by indulging me with lots of pampering when I was little. Despite receiving all that love and attention, I always craved for my parents. I just could not help it. I remember asking everybody about them every chance I got. I listened with a hunger to each anecdote, each description about my parents. And then I would daydream about them the rest of the day.”

“Good thing you were that cute little princess redhead everybody wanted to smother.” Hector commented teasingly. He was having the insane need to lift the mood. He couldn’t deal with the melancholy in his wife’s voice right now. He was still too restless. His head was as heavy as his heart. He felt tired and drowsy, but his traumatic memories from the past were too vivid in his mind to rest. Lenore's chuckle came, therefore, as a great relief to him.

“Of course I was.” The vampire admitted, unaware of how badly anxious Hector still was. “I was also a very fragile child. Had weak health and was often sick. I had to spend most of my time indoors, because of the cold winters and the hot summers. I hated that, because I wanted to play with the other children, so again, adults overcompensated me with lots of hugs and kisses, sweets, pretty toys, and dresses.”

“It’s funny, I was practically never sick as a child.” Hector mused out loud, suddenly realizing he had been always so healthy, he forgot not everybody shared the same luck. “Cannot really recall the last time I was ill.”

“Be glad you have robust health. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have survived your 800-mile march.”

“Oh, so after all it’s not thanks to Carmilla’s logic and self-control that I’m alive!” Hector told in an accusing tone and Lenore immediately regretted her words.

“What I meant is, your physical strength contributed a lot.” Lenore tried to correct her obvious blunt.

“Yeah-yeah, whatever.” He said in a sardonic manner while pouring more tea in his cup. “Tell me more about your life in court.” He demanded dryly while turning his head to face her. Lenore was staring at him with a pout on her lips. “I don’t feel like talking about my delightful stroll from Brailla to here and, much less about your dear bitchy sister.”

“Such venom.” Lenore retorted and poked his cheek once. Hector smirked amused. Their eyes locked for a moment before he leaned a bit to plant a chaste kiss on her lips. The Forgemaster then sat back, while lifting his eyebrow, insisting silently on his request. The vampire resisted a snort before giving in to his wishes. “I was everybody’s child. There was always somebody who wanted to carry me around. Family members, noblemen, and women, the staff.”

She told with a sincere smile, the recollections of those happy times warming her heart. “While growing up, and like all highborn noble girls, I was taught about manners, etiquette, and had literary schooling. Uncle Mstislav - he became known in history as Mstislav I Vladimirovich the Great - understood quite early on I was a child gifted with intellect. He insisted I should learn and master the seven liberal arts. All instruction was given, of course, in Latin. It was rather unusual for a girl to have such a complete education, so I was envied by both boys and girls. But especially boys, because I often outsmarted them in the subjects.”

“I bet you did.” Hector said entertained. He imagined a miniature version of the vampire, ripping down her classmates with her wittiness.

“When I was ten, uncle Mstislav passed away and his brother Yaropolk succeeded him. His only child died when he was still a toddler. It happened around the same time I became an orphan.”

“You were the same age as your deceased cousin.” It was more an affirmation than a question.

“Yes. We were only seven months apart.” Lenore confirmed. “I’m quite positive he viewed me as the embodiment of the child his son could have grown into. I must have also evoked the memory of my father. Everybody told me I inherited his character.”

“You surely became his favorite niece.”

“I did. And like uncle Mstislav, he too believed in my intellectual skills. From the moment he became Kiev’s ruler, he invited me to attend his Court meetings. This became my school for diplomacy. Uncle Yaropolk’s reign was distinguished by many wars, yet, most of his time was invested in attaining peace with all the conflicting parties. Dealing with regional powers that fall under central jurisdiction is very tricky.” Lenore paused. A glint of enthusiasm and pride reached her red orbs and warmed her voice. Hector smiled as a reaction. “Most rulers use oppression, but uncle Yaropolk believed strongly in diplomacy. He told me it was the soul of every regime. To him, diplomacy was the bridge that connects two different worlds. He believed compromise was the way to overcome destructive disputes; the way to build a better world.”

“Sounds like he was a wise man. And a good teacher too.” The Forgemaster told, fighting back a yawn. He was starting to feel more relaxed, so the drowsiness was increasing. But he was enjoying listening to Lenore, glad he was finally learning something about her past, that he forced himself to stay awake and make the most of it.

“He was!” Lenore agreed while she gave a tiny exciting jump and lifted her hands midway against her chest. “Uncle Yaropolk would always ask me to recapitulate what had happened at the meeting, the end of the day. He taught me to recognize people’s intentions through the choice of clothing, facial expressions, gestures, and tones during their discourse. He explained to me we could gather more information from the unconscious body language than what people actually said.”

“He taught you how to read people.”

“Exactly!”

“I really was chanceless, wasn't I?” Hector asked a bit downhearted, referring to his time in the cell and the conversations he had back then with Lenore.

“You were. Your trusting nature helped, but even if you were shrewd, I would have convinced you to be loyal to me, sooner or later.” Lenore agreed while she brushed a rebellious silver lock away from his face because Hector was giving her a look between upset and discouraged. “But would I had failed, I’m sure Carmilla and Morana would have gladly resorted to torture. We wouldn’t be sitting here together, right now.” Lenore added before he would protest. She read the initial indignation that was reaching his face fade, giving way to reluctant compliance. He sighed, looking very tired.

“I wish that wouldn’t have been necessary.” The Forgemaster said grimly. “You having to manipulate me.”

“I didn’t manipulate you. I was working on having an agreement with you.”

“You manipulated me.” The man insisted annoyed.

“Are you going to be stubborn about this?”

“Yes.” He said so seriously, Lenore lifted her eyebrows surprised. “You know this could all have been avoided.”

“Hector…”

“You know it, so you can as well just admit it!” Hector insisted looking quite serious, his voice already indicating the beginning of irritation.

“Admit what?”

“That if Carmilla wouldn’t have beaten me at Brailla, if she had instead negotiated with me, I would have agreed to work for her!”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about my dear bitchy sister.” Lenore told and Hector rolled his eyes.

“Please, Lenore. Just do me this favor and admit it. Beating me was not necessary.”

“It was not. And I am sorry Carmilla did.” Lenore finally agreed, and she noticed how Hector relaxed immediately, the tension that was building on his shoulders disappearing instantly. “But then again, I wouldn’t have had the privilege of visiting you at the cells and see that delicious naked body of yours.” She quipped, her tone bringing a mix of seduction and playfulness. Hector’s eyes grew large and wide, while his cheeks flushed in the most adorable rosy shade.

“Shit, you royal women are savage.” He retorted amused. “A small part of me feels violated.”

“Anyway, - and going back to my story about uncle Yaropolk…” Lenore said in a chuckle, struggling to sound serious because Hector was giving her a mischievous look. “… he taught me how to analyze dialogues, explained how to evaluate certain dilemmas, proposals, and draw possible compromises.”

Lenore was grateful Hector refocused on the subject. She was surprised he had dropped the topic about Carmilla so easily and realized, all he wanted was her to take his side and not her sister’s. He was in his own right. Even Morana and Striga had told from the very beginning, it had been a serious miscalculation on Carmilla’s part. If it weren’t for her diplomatic skills and seduction, Hector would have remained an enemy instead of an ally. That Carmilla still refused to see this just proved how childish and obstinate she was. But Lenore dropped the matter, for now at least, and continued her tale. “I got so good in diplomacy, sometimes, when uncle was feeling particularly upset, he would ask for my insight. Imagine that, Hector. A king asking a little girl to propose a viable solution to end a conflict. It was his way of humiliating a failed diplomat in the presence of the whole court.”

“Quite brutal.” The Forgemaster commented. He shifted to sit more comfortably. “It’s great you had such a close bond with your uncles. Glad one of us had a happy past.” Lenore smiled but it looked forced and tensed. Hector picked it up right away. “Or not…? Did something bad happen?” He cautiously asked. The man saw how she struggled to give him an answer and felt bad for asking. “You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay.” The vampire girl assured with a sweet smile. “It’s just – it’s sad.”

“Is it more miserable than my past?” Hector asked worriedly.

“It’s – different. We can leave it for another time if you are feeling tired.” The redhead proposed. Not only was she sensing his anxiety return, but she had noticed the way he had repressed yawns several times. Also, the weariness was reaching his eyes.

“You don’t need to hold anything back because of me.” Hector quickly answered, feeling flustered for Lenore putting his interests before hers. This was something he was not used to. “I’m okay with whatever you want.”

“You’re so cute!” Lenore praised while giving a playful squeeze on one of his flushed cheeks. She giggled at the way Hector almost flinched and gave her a bewildered look. “But yes. I think I need to tell my story as you did yours.” She added, returning to her normal register. Hector nodded while rubbing his cheek and giving a wary side glance at the redhead.

There was a pause when Lenore needed to confirm mentally, for just one second, her own decision. She gave her husband a strained smile and he looked back at her with concern. The vampire girl took a deep breath to gain some courage. “Highborn noble girl’s childhood ends with the first bleeding. The marriage soon follows. I was betrothed when I was 3 and married when I was 12. Yet, the marriage was only legally consummated when I moved to my husband’s court, in Mures County when I was 15. This delay was due to my weak health. Physicians advised against me being pregnant before that age. Because, ultimately, that is the purpose of marriage. Providing an heir.”

“Did you have children?” Hector cautiously asked and the redhead grimaced. A flash of pain crossed her red orbs, which she tried to conceal with a casual smile. The Forgemaster didn’t miss it.

“I had my first miscarriage little before I was 16. The court’s physician recommended a year of sexual abstinence so my body could recover, which I didn’t mind. Count of Mures was not really good in bed. I just lay there till he was done. There was no bond, no connection between us. We barely spoke in private. We were perfect strangers, really. He was not interested in learning to know me at all and only saw me as the womb that would carry his heir.”

Lenore told with bitterness, being glad she could no longer remember her former husband’s face. “I was 17 and a half when I had the second miscarriage. Another year of rest was followed. I was 19 when my body finally didn’t reject the baby.” There was a pause and Hector could read the nerves reflect in her eyes. Sensing dread, he moved his hand to hold hers, like she had held his earlier. All his drowsiness disappeared and gave place for a new kind of anxiety. Dread for the person sitting next to him.

Lenore stared at their joined hands contemplatively and lifted her eyes to meet his, grateful for his caring gesture. “It was a nightmarish pregnancy. I was tired all the time. I suffered from frequent nausea, dizziness, colic. I barely left my bed for the last two months.” Lenore told and as her tale progressed, her voice became increasingly shaky and choked. Hector gave a small encouraging squeeze on her hand while he swallowed dry. He expected this story to end in tragedy. The water accumulating in Lenore’s eyes confirmed his fears. “The delivery was horrible. It took too long. It took many, many hours. All that physical strain. All that pain. All for nothing. It was a stillbirth.”

Lenore barely managed to vocalize the last word, as it died halfway in a choke. The tears cascaded freely while a hurtful sob reached her lips. Hector’s eyes grew in compassionate sadness and he quickly took the girl in his arms to pull her close to him. “They didn’t even let me hold my boy! They didn’t even allow me to pay goodbye to my little boy! My poor beautiful little boy!”

The vampire mournfully told between sobs and hiccups. A sorrowful wail escaped her throat and she curled on Hector’s lap, her fingers clenching his arms and chest, while her whole body shook from the sudden intensive weeping. Even after centuries, the pain remained as cruel as the moment the baby came out of her silence. The moment she read the conformed sadness on the midwife’s face. The moment the cruel words were spoken. _I’m sorry, milady. It is dead. It was a boy._ And walked away with the little bundle, a white bloodied cloth concealing the infant. Lenore had crumbled in hysterical sobs, screaming insanely to let her see her son. It was the most hideous cruel thing anybody had ever done to her. It was told to her, it was better like this.

It still hurt, remembering. It was like a knife had remained stuck in her heart for centuries of silence. Because a mother never forgets. Lenore cried thick pearls of salty water, like the day she delivered her dead son. She sobbed shamelessly, pouring her heart out while digging her face against her husband’s chest. The warmth emanating under his skin, the steady heartbeat, the soft comforting whispers telling her it was okay; made her feel protected. Lenore felt safe in a way she didn’t know she craved until she needed it.

Slowly, gradually, her sobs diminished. The knife in her heart was lifted enough to ease the pain. Lenore remained a while silent. She remained quiet, allowing herself to be warmly coddled by her mortal man. She closed her eyes relishing the soothing sensation of her long locks being combed by Hector’s fingers. It was comforting, it was soothing, it was mellowing. “I loved my son, already before he was born.” She whispered sadly. “Already before my belly was swelling. In my mind, I had conversations with him, played with him, dreamed of him. He didn’t even have the chance to see daylight. To take his first breath. To shout his first cry. It’s unfair, so unfair to have this bond for nine months and then have it ripped away.”

Lenore closed her eyes, sensing a kiss being planted on her head. Hector was lost for words. He had heard people talk about stillbirth, so often, it became something of the ordinary for him. It should not. Seeing how much Lenore suffered, he could not even begin to imagine the bottomless sadness a mother to a dead child had to endure. Not knowing what to say, he limited doing the only thing he could. Hold Lenore close to his heart. “That had been my end, Hector. My life was over, quite literally. Everything ached. My body was exhausted, completely worn-out. I never had felt so tired before. It felt unnatural. It was like life had been sucked out and died along with my child. I could feel I was dying. I didn’t mind. I was ready. There was nothing to live for, anyway.”

“So… How did you become a vampire?” Hector asked perplexed. Lenore gave a deep breath, cleaned her face, and shifted enough to look at the man. His face was tensed with lines of compassion and empathy, his aquamarine orbs carried a beautiful expression of concern and tenderness. Lenore felt lucky for receiving his undivided attention. For his kindness and care. She was thankful their lives had intertwined. That fate had brought them together.

“Carmilla turned me.”

“Carmilla?!” Hector almost shouted shocked.

“Yes, we were friends already, back then. For several years.”

“Wait a minute. Carmilla? Friends with a human girl?” Hector questioned warily, making the redhead release a little amused giggle, alternated with her last hiccups. “Are you sure we are talking about the same Carmilla? The one that hates and despises and has pleasure in mistreating humans?”

“I know it’s difficult to believe, but yes. Remember when I told you I was a nocturnal person?” The redhead asked and Hector nodded looking completely bewildered. “I started suffering from insomnia at Mures, so I often wandered in the castle’s gardens at night. It was one of those nights, during my second year of marriage, that I met Carmilla. Do you remember the first thing you ever told me?”

“I asked if you had scolded the soldier for my benefit.” Hector told, remembering perfectly well their first conversation.

“After that.”

“Vampires like to play with their food.”

“Carmilla does. Carmilla saw me strolling along with the apple orchard and intended scaring the shit out of me, chasing me around until I could no longer run or scream and then drink me to death. Or so, she told me, later.”

“What stopped her?”

“I was crying because I was feeling miserable in Mures. That was when she chose to reveal herself.” Lenore’s memories flowed back to that decisive night. She remembered it clearly because it had impacted her tremendously. Meeting the queen of Styria had been, beyond doubt, a changing moment in her mortal life.

« _Why the sad tears, little princess? »_ Carmilla’s voice had startled Lenore. The red-haired girl had gasped when a tall, elegant woman with long silky silver hair, emerged from the night’s dark shadows. There was something ethereal about the way the pale white moonlight brightened her fair features.

 _«You’re beautiful! »_ Lenore had said with awe, while she wiped her tears away.

 _«Why, thank you. You are a very pretty thing too. »_ The stranger had paced closer and giggled entertained, her long sharp canines shining under the moonlight. She had read the surprising realization on the child’s face. She had expected the scent of fear to reach her nose any moment, she had waited for the flash of horror to fill the girl’s eyes, she had anticipated a panicked shriek. But none of that happened.

 _«You are a vampire! »_ Lenore had exclaimed excited and the woman’s eyes grew large in surprise, her eyebrows lifted. Instead of fear, the girl’s voice had been filled with admiration.

 _«That I am.»_ The vampire had admitted, intrigued, and taken aback by the lenore’s reaction. _«You do not fear me? »_

 _«I’m not scared. Well, maybe a little. It’s just, I’ve heard so many stories about vampires, I secretively always wanted to meet one.”_ Lenore had said in her characteristic demonstration of enthusiasm. Hands raised up to the chest, fingers twitching in excitement.

_«You are a curious child. »_

_«I am a woman. »_ Lenore had told proudful, straightening her back to look taller and provoking an amused giggle on the other woman.

 _«You are bold. You are nothing like any human I’ve ever encountered before. »_ The woman had complimented, amused by the child’s wittiness and confidence. _«But I am thirsty and feeling rather bored, so I am going to enjoy drinking you.”_

 _«I was afraid you would say that. I understand. Vampires feed on human blood, after all. But it is a pity, really. I would so very much enjoy learning a thing or two about vampire culture. »_ Lenore had spoken with longing, doing her best in concealing her frenzied heartbeat and using her diplomatic skills acquired in her uncle’s court to save her neck. « _I would like to propose a deal. »_

Lenore’s mind brought her back to the present when she lifted her eyes to lock them on Hector’s. She read the curiosity in them. “I made a deal with her. Carmilla had told she was bored, so I offered to entertain her that night. Should I fail, she could drink my blood and I would not offer resistance. We talked all night, till two hours before dawn, when she had to leave.”

“Good thing you had a good education in Kiev.”

“Indeed. Carmilla enjoyed her time so much, she challenged me to entertain her the next night and the following one. During five nights, we talked about science, music, arts, literature, astronomy, botanic... As the nights progressed, we talked more and more about personal stuff. I ended up opening to her. You see, since I arrived in Mures, I lead a solitary life. People were always kind and polite to me, but they were distant and uninterested. My daily life was a theater of formalities, nonsense ceremonies, fake smiles, and superficial gossip. Unlike my uncle, my husband disliked women with knowledge and intellect. The rest of Mures’ population agreed. I was not to speak my opinion because it was considered a sign of great disrespect and disobedience towards my husband. I was severely reprimanded by everybody for embarrassing him when I did speak my mind. So, you can imagine, how happy I was to be able to have somebody to talk to carefreely. Carmilla made my life less lonely. She was the first real friend I made since I left Kiev.”

“God, that is so unlikely. And rather uncanny. Carmilla befriending a human... You must have really charmed her.” Hector vocalized his disbelief. “Why five nights?”

“She was attending an annual gathering at Dracula’s court. His castle was not far from where I lived. You see, the Mures County belongs to the region of Transylvania. The reunions always lasted a week. Since then, every time Carmilla was in Transylvania, she would visit me.” Lenore paused a moment to take a sip of her tea. She wrinkled her nose. The water was cold. “After my second miscarriage, Carmilla proposed me to join the vampire society. She told me I would be recognized in her court, my opinions would be listened to and valued. But I refused.” Hector’s temple wrinkled from surprise. “I still had hope. I thought if I would give birth to an heir, things would change for the better. I still believed, if I fulfilled my task, I would earn the status and respect I deserved and thought I could finally play a role in the court. Looking back now, I was being silly and feeding my head with lies. The truth was, I was afraid. Becoming a vampire was such an extreme change. I wasn’t ready to renounce my mortality and my identity as a princess of Kiev.”

“But that changed after the delivery.”

“I was on my deathbed.” Lenore stressed the last word. “Carmilla entered my room that evening. She told me later, she had been watching me through magical mirrors and used a transmission mirror to travel to my chamber.”

“Carmilla has a transmission mirror in the castle?” Hector asked shocked. He was wondering why they didn’t use the thing, instead of making those hellish 800 miles on foot.

“She had, but it was broken about 50 years ago. We’ll have a new one soon, though.” The vampire girl told happily. “We recently purchased a transmission mirror from Calcutta. It should arrive any day now.”

“Oh. Well. - That will be handy, during the war… But, I’m sorry - you were telling Carmilla came to your room.”

“Yes. I was so miserable with grief; it didn’t even bother me she killed the two women-in-waiting that was watching over me.” Lenore remembered she had been moved to see a friend, somebody that genuinely cared for her. She didn’t mind the blood dripping down Carmilla’s chin, the way red contrasted with her alabaster skin. In her eyes, the monster standing before her was an angel sent to comfort her. “Carmilla pled me to come live with her in Styria. She promised me she would give whatever I wanted to be happy. Because she loved me dearly, like a big sister who loves her baby sister.” Lenore spoke with such affection, Hector wondered again, if she was talking about the same coldhearted, violent and cruel Carmilla he knew. “How could I refuse such a thing? She was offering me much more than immortality. She was giving me a new life. A new chance. A place where I could blossom and spread my wings. A place where I could be happy.”

“How did it feel, to become a vampire?”

“It hurt less than I had expected. It felt like two pointy needles piercing my neck. And when Carmilla gave her blood, it tasted oddly sweet and intoxicating. Like a fruit liquor. Warm, thick, and sugary. I could feel a kind of burn travel my veins like my bloodstream was carrying poison to my heart. My heartbeat and breathing slowed down until I fell asleep. Or better, it felt like falling asleep, because I died. And then, I woke up. It was incredible, Hector! A glorious revitalizing energy flowed under my skin. All the earlier exhaustion and ache disappeared instantly. I felt strong and fit. I never felt so good in my life. My vision was sharp, I could see clearly in the dark. My ears picked so many sounds, so far away, I felt dizzy for a second. When I saw myself in the mirror, I could not believe my eyes. I was taller, my face was fuller, I was less skinny. I looked healthier than when I was alive.”

“You became taller?” Hector questioned shocked at the revelation. And all this time, he had thought she was a short girl.

“Everybody becomes taller, after the transformation. And gains pointy ears and fangs.” Lenore explained in a chuckle. “We used the mirror to teleport here, to Styria’s castle and - that was it. My new life began. The rest is history.”

There was a pause. A short moment of silence. Like it was necessary for the information to settle in properly. The recently married couple locked their eyes and exchanged smiles.

“That was - quite an impressive tale.” Hector confessed, trying to conceal another yawn he failed to repress.

“You really look tired.” Lenore told while she brushed some of his hair. He closed his eyes for a moment, relishing the touch. “We’ve been up for quite a long time.”

“I could listen to your stories for hours.” Hector confessed with a sincere smile before he reopened his eyes.

“I’m sure you could.” Lenore said in a loving tone. “Now, off you go. To bed. I’ll join you in a bit.”

Lenore ordered while she picked the teacups and put them on the tray. She repressed a snort when Hector clumsily bumped against the couch’s end, cursed, and paced away unsteady. The vampire tidied up the china in the kitchen and breathed in deeply. This had been a long morning. This was beyond doubt the longest, most personal, and emotional conversation they had ever shared. And despite how drained she was, Lenore was happy they did. Each day they grew more comfortable together. Each day they spent more relaxed and playful moments together, but today, they had a real breakthrough. This conversation was something they were needing for a while already. It came at the right moment. When both were prepared to confine to the other. Lenore thought it ironic. In less than two months, she had more intimate moments and conversations with Hector than during her five years marriage with Count of Mures.

Lenore walked to the bedroom. A small chuckle followed. The Forgemaster was sprawled on top of the bed, fast asleep, and fully clothed. Lenore shook her head while she looked at him with adoration and amusement. She had tried to shorten her tale because she had noticed how Hector was struggling to stay awake. Not once had he mentioned how sleepy he was. He had been a real sweetheart to stay put, listening to her, consoling her, eager to learn the full story. Today, more than ever, Lenore knew she had made the right decision in keeping Hector. After centuries of unsuccessful searching, of countless frustrating dates, her other half finally appeared. In the most inconspicuous manner. A fallen human general, beaten and imprisoned by the very same woman that had saved her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lenore's education and marriage arrangement (ages and such) mentioned in this chapter is historically accurate.
> 
> Her grandfather Vladimir II Monomakh and the two sons who suceeded him, Mstislav I Vladimirovich the Great and Yaropolk are all real characters.  
> I did not go as far as giving names to Lenore's fictional parents, didn't find it really relevant, since they died so early on. The Earl of Cornwall, the Principality of Pereyaslavl and the Mures County are also real things.
> 
> I like to think Lenore is redheaded like her mother, a woman from Cornwall, although, I did not insert that in the chapter.
> 
> Finally, I checked out our two main characters names' meaning and origin. I thought it fun the add here in the notes
> 
> Lenore is of French origin (Eleanor) and means "Light". Also has other meanings in different languages - “the other”, “foreign” (from Germanic “ali”) or “compassionate”, “merciful” (from Greek “eleos”) and “God is my light” (from Arabic “ellinor”).
> 
> Hector is the Latinized form of Greek Hektor, meaning "holding fast",or "to hold, to possess". In Greek mythology («Iliad» by Homer) Hector was the prince heir to the Trojan throne and its champion. He fought against the Greeks and was defeated by Achilles. Hector has occasionally been used as a given name since the Middle Ages, probably because of the noble character of the classical hero, who was a valiant warrior


	16. Mykola of Ruthenia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> Writer: Darktragicangel
> 
> Beta: Shadowking514
> 
> I appologize for the late update. 
> 
> It took me already longer posting my other Castlevania fic, delaying the start of my writting on this one. Then I was halfway the chapter and completely disliked the way it was going. I wanted to write a lighter chapter, but it was becoming repetitive, superficial and rather ridiculous. I hated it so much, I had to start all over again. I'm such a pain to myself. XD
> 
> Anyway, I'm back on track again. I am at least, honestly happy with how the chapter came out. Hopefully, the long wait was worth.
> 
> Enjoy the reading and don't forget to leave a comment below.

The sound of heavy heels pacing in a relaxed but confident stride reverberated through a long corridor. A merry melodic humming brightened, even more, the beautifully ornamented walls with tapestries and paintings. Tall and thick dark curtains kept the golden sunlight away. It was late afternoon; it would still take about two hours before the sun would set. Which meant it was early in vampiric terms. Most vampires would only rise after sundown, but others had tasks that demanded starting work while it was still day. Such as the castle’s heating and ventilation engineer, who had the important task of carrying out regular maintenance and repairs on the heating equipment and pipework systems. It wasn’t a particularly difficult job, but one which demanded continued testing and checking.

Styria had the fortune of having very diligent and qualified heating and ventilation engineer. Mykola of Ruthenia. He was introduced in the court of Styria because of his infinite thirst for knowledge and fascination in the mechanics of contraptions that were strange to humans. He had most of his training in Dracula’s castle and served temporarily in the court of Germania before moving permanently to Styria. Mykola was praised for his skills and meticulous work methods, as much as he was for his literary talents. The Styrian library had a humble collection of books written by him. Volumes about engineering and mechanics work and about folk traditions and legends from Eastern Europe; and finally some romances and poetry books.

While he headed to the central heating room to start his routine, he mused on the newest addition to the castle’s population. Hector, the Forgemaster. Stories have a funny way of traveling. They can come in form of anecdotes, rumors, or gossip. In one way or another, they spread themselves like a virus in a closed and familiar community. It is irrelevant to how sophisticated or advanced a population maybe because curiosity is a universal trait. It will entice both young and old, poor and rich, illiterate and educated. Normally, when new stories circulate, new elements are added. They are often exaggerations of the truth. Whether they are negative or positive, they add a somewhat mythical aura to the object of talk. The result is the emergence of a reputation. And the human had acquired quite one.

Mykola had been admittedly curious when he heard about the human the first time. Whispers traveled throughout the castle, murmuring the tale of a mortal man taken prisoner by Carmilla herself. The creature had been kept under restricted chains to prevent it from escaping or attacking. Because the whispers murmured, it was a sorcerer. But not just any sorcerer. A Devil’s Forgemaster. A human with the power of transforming fresh corpses into ferocious beasts. A sorcerer so powerful, Dracula himself had sought it out. Not only he enlisted the Forgemaster in his war on humankind to create monsters, but Hector became one of his most trusty generals. Mykola thought that was most unlikely. The idea a human would be recognized for anything at all was already absurd. A human achieving such a high status was absolutely preposterous. As days passed by, the lack of novelties made people lose interest in the lonely prisoner’s existence until they eventually forgot about it.

Then, everything changed after a month. It was a sudden change. Like a mighty earthquake that shakes the foundations of the Earth and reshapes the world in a way, things will never return to how they were before. From one day to the other, and without an apparent reason, the Forgemaster was released from his cell.

Immediately, new stories started circulating. Tales that seemed more a product from wild imagination than from the truth. Because the human was promoted from the solitary prisoner in the dungeons to an ally of the Styrian court. Not only that, it received unforeseen exclusivity and privileges; rights that were unachievable even to the highest-ranked nobles. Such as its admittance in the Council Room. Or the renovation of an entire building outside the castle, fully furnished, to serve as its new home. Outrageous. Laughable. Mykola was certain these stories were fake. It made no sense to give human such privileges. The queen of Styria was a woman well-known for hating humans. She would never allow such a thing. Mykola was not alone in his doubts about the veracity of these rumors. They simply had no foundations.

But then, there was another rumor going around. One that truly bothered him. One that made him doubt his certainties. It was told the mortal man was Lenore’s pet. Mykola knew Lenore. He knew she had an uncanny interest in humans. He still could remember how excited she was when word came that Vlad Tepes had espoused a human woman. It was beyond everybody’s comprehension of her yearn in meeting the creature, something that ended up never happening. Mykola also knew how she loved to pamper her pets and indulge them with all kinds of luxuries. Just like she loved having full control over them. The reason he did not believe Viktorija’s statement the previous day. Or so he told himself. Because the seed of doubt had been planted.

The taste of bile reached his tongue, every time Viktorija’s voice replayed in his mind - _that episode happened because Lenore and her new lover had a major fight._ _And guess what, Mykola? They made their peace._ Her voice taunted him and mocked his pride. Envy had crept in his belly when he had met Hector in person. A man holding a singular beauty. Typical Lenore, to fall for the grace of good looks. Mykola had had pleasure in witnessing those fascinating aquamarine eyes fill themselves with hurt and fright when he revealed Lenore’s unreliable character and her royal background. Yet, uncertainty consumed him. Was the boy distressed for fearing to lose his newly acquired privileges, or did he have genuine feelings for Lenore? Could Lenore have genuine feelings for the human? As ludicrous as it sounded, knowing Lenore, it wasn’t that far-fetched.

Mykola was deeply focused on these thoughts, while he headed to the central heating room when, and to his surprise, he crossed paths with the woman of his musings. There was a moment of awkward tension when their eyes met. Her face showed surprise, but he read a glint of determination in her red eyes. He swallowed dryly. This was never a good omen.

“Good afternoon, Mykola. It has been quite a while.” Lenore’s smooth and pleasant voice greeted him. She sounded genuinely surprised by the accidental meeting.

“Lady Lenore.” Mykola acknowledged with a polite bow, according to etiquette. “It has been a too long time. I’m surprised to find you wandering in the castle so early. I mean, it’s still day.”

“That is true. I have quite some errands on my agenda today, so I thought, why not start early on?” Lenore casually told. Mykola instantly knew she was lying. Lenore loved to linger in bed as long as she could. Especially if she had company. He was unwillingly reminded how passionate she could be, how addictive the touch of her skin was, her perfumed scent, her small noises of pleasure. Again, envy crept in his being, for his mind produced the unwanted mental image of the redhead and the human man together. The disturbing image was broken by Lenore’s voice, which shifted to a softer tone. “It’s a pity, really, getting up so soon. I was so comfortably nestled against a warm human body.”

“Ah, Hector the Forgemaster.” Mykola said in a knowing tone, hiding successfully how annoyed he felt by the _warm human body_ detail. Lenore gave him a small kind smile while she nodded in confirmation. “I saw him yesterday. We shared some words.”

“I know, Hector told me.” Lenore told while widening a smile, one Mykola totally disliked, because that smile meant she knew something he didn’t.

“He did?”

“Yes! I’m actually glad we two bumped into each other!” The redhead’s voice became higher pitched as a vocalization of her sudden enthusiasm. Mykola stared at her stoically, hiding how truly perturbed he felt, watching her bend her hands up to her chest while flexing her fingers in contained excitement.

“Right.” Mykola said deadpanned, not believing a word about their accidental meeting and truly disliking her overjoy.

“I wanted to thank you for talking with Hector.” Lenore told, ignoring his cold and distant demeanor. Mykola’s eyebrow lifted in incredibility. She smiled politely, while she dropped her hands and held them neatly together in front of her. “You see, Hector and I had a bumpy start. Things haven’t been a sea of roses. We had some disagreements, some fights. Honestly, we have been struggling with each other for a while. I could tell part of these quarrels were related to the fact he was holding back something very personal. And thanks to your talk with him yesterday, he finally confined to me. And I shared personal things with him too. Things only my sisters knew, until yesterday. It was amazing! We finally opened to each other. Not just that. We did it without fear, without shame. We reached a whole new level of trust and intimacy. Like something I never experienced before. With nobody.”

The redhead told with glee, her happiness making her voice warm. While she talked, she placed her left hand over her chest and Mykola noticed the ring for the first time. She looked at Mykola’s face and noticed he was staring at her ring. There was a pause, in which Lenore waited for a reaction. The man shifted his gaze to look at the vampire girl. He wore a stony expression. Mykola was trying his best to camouflage his utter shock. He recalled seeing an identical ring on the Forgemaster but had not given it any importance back then. He remembered thinking it was probably a wedding ring. That Hector had a human wife somewhere or was a young widower, as it often happened among mortals. Now, a new worrisome conclusion was brewing in his mind. He chose not to comment or question, preferring to remain ignorant, even if it was only for another minute.

He locked his eyes with Lenore’s and the uncomfortable feeling in his gut only worsened. Her red orbs were warm, glistening with a new light. Mykola was digesting her words. Because this was not something he had expected to hear. Any of it. From her verbalization of gratitude to her humbleness in admitting things weren’t perfect between her and the human. Lenore never admitted failure, even if it was small or temporary. Also, the manner she told him this was new and special to her, felt too genuine to be fake. His dead heart skipped a beat at the thought, Lenore could actually be in love with the human. Even though this idea was outrageous and absurd, unfortunately, it made a lot of sense. Suddenly, all silly the rumors that had been circulating about Hector, didn’t sound that silly anymore. The improbable sounded now very much more probable. Because Lenore was powerful. Very powerful. She received enormous respect and love from her sisters. Especially from Carmilla. If Lenore truly cared for the human and wished him to have privileges, she was the person to persuade her sisters in giving the man an exceptional status.

Lenore smirked. She could almost hear the wheels in Mykola’s head moving, trying to figure out exactly what her real relationship status with Hector was. Since he was not talking, she decided to bring a conclusion to her discourse. “Mykola of Ruthenia, you have, therefore, gained my undying gratitude.” The vampire girl said while she made an elegant and polite curtesy. Her gesture made Mykola’s mask of indifference fall. His eyes widened; his mouth went slightly agape. He shook himself from his torpor, realizing he was being unpolite with his non-reaction.

“N-Not at all.” He stuttered while he quickly bowed formally. “I’m happy to help.” Both vampires straightened their backs and faced each other directly. Mykola looked lost for words and witnessed Lenore grin from triumph. Another short pause followed. Mykola swallowed bitterly when Lenore looked down at her hands, brought her right hand to her left one, and started turning the ring. Again, his eyes were fixed on the cursed object. The redhead looked up after a short moment and Mykola automatically shifted his gaze to her face. She was smiling a smile full of malice.

“Are you not going to ask me about the ring?” She questioned, knowing he understood by knowing what was going on.

“Do I want to?”

“It’s a magical ring. I used it to ensure Hector would be loyal to me. I distributed identical rings to my sisters, so the working of the spell is extended to them. Because Hector is loyal to me, he is loyal to them too. Because his night creatures are loyal to him, they are loyal to me and my sisters.” Lenore explained and Mykola pressed his eyebrows together, not quite expecting this explanation, but then, the vampire girl continued. “Hector and I wear them on our ring fingers, my sisters on other fingers. Because, you see, Hector’s and my magical rings gained meanwhile a much deeper meaning and carry now a significant symbolism.” She paused to stretch the suspense and could read the dreadful expectation on Mykola’s eyes. “They represent our marriage. Hector and I pledged to each other the night he was released from his cell.”

Mykola’s jaw fell. His fears were confirmed. What he once thought was an absurd and impossible thing to happen, became reality. Lenore, the woman no vampire, no matter how high his status was or of how impressive his achievements were; could keep up to her demands, to her standards, to her expectations; ended up bonding to human. Anger, disgust, and revolt started revolving and twirling inside his stomach to the point he felt sick. He was nauseated.

“Really, Lenore? A woman like you can have any man you want. You could marry a king. Hell, you should marry a fucking emperor! You have truly descended to the lowest level possible.” He told in a scornful tone, his face contorting from disgust. Lenore’s eyes gleamed in triumph. This was exactly the reaction she had expected from him. “Marrying with a filthy mortal man. It’s not bad enough he’s human, but the creature doesn’t even have an honorable heritage. His background must be so poor, so humiliating and shameful, he rejected his own family name.”

“Should you know, all Forgemasters reject their family names. They have to break bonds with their past in order to enter the circle of dark arts.” Lenore calmly clarified and Mykola was reminded of the exact explanation the human had offered him the previous dawn. “Anyway, Hector has much more value than any king or emperor empowered by a shitty tittle inherited by birth. Did he come from a humble family situation? Yes. And everything he achieved in his life has been by his own merit. Fruit of his hard work. He stood above Carmilla in Dracula’s war Council’s hierarchy because of his qualities, his talents, and his personality. Not because of birthright titles. And what she did to him was wrong, so now she is restituting the rights he should have received in Brailla already.” Lenore paused and took a step closer to Mykola. Her eyes were locked on his and, despite being much shorter than him, she looked powerful, fearless, and intimidating. “You are right, Mykola. I can have any man I want. That is why I chose Hector. He’s much more a man than any man I’ve known. He has much more character, values, and morals than any man I’ve dated.” Her words had a soft and melodic sound but were rasp and hurtful. Mykola frowned offended. “Mykola of Ruthenia, Duke of Peremyshl and Viscount of Lutsk. Hold as many titles as you want. You aren’t nearly as close to being half the man Hector is.”

“You are mad! And this is the maddest thing you’ve ever done!” The man spat furious, insulted, offended.

“No. This is the wisest thing I ever did. Hector is real. He doesn’t need to parade around, bragging about his talents and achievements like you do! He doesn’t have to conceal his flaws behind a shield of titles and family backgrounds.”

“So you married him to get back at me?” Mykola asked in an accusing manner and Lenore laughed amused.

“Oh, you are so full of yourself. This is exactly why I broke up with you. And all the other idiots that came before and after you.” Lenore said in a condescending manner. “I married him because he is the kindest, most authentic and brilliant man I’ve ever met. And he makes me happy. He _truly_ makes me happy.” Another short pause settled between them and Mykola could feel the tension and threat around Lenore increase. “That is why, should you ever do anything to Hector, hurt him in any possible manner, I promise you, I will make sure you will regret it terribly. I will make your life a living Hell. Because this is how important Hector is to me.” Her face screamed seriousness. She looked strict and unbendable. Lenore watched Mykola’s Adam’s apple move nervously in his throat. The man sighed after a few seconds.

“I’m not going to lie. This is a fucking shocking revelation.” He told in a defeated tone. “But - I understand. I will not bother your human husband again. Friends?” He asked while he raised his hand to shake hers. Lenore stared at his hand for a moment in a pensive manner.

“I doubt we’ll ever be friends again, Mykola. But you have my tolerance.” She told, never raising her hand to meet his. He eventually dropped his and snorted upset.

“Guess I’ll content myself with that.” He told indifferently, acting like her coldness didn’t bother him.

“Well. Wasn’t this a fun talk?” Lenore said suddenly in an exaggerated joyful and excited way, indicating their conversation had reached its conclusion. “I must resume my errands. Have a good evening, Mykola of Ruthenia.”

“A pleasant evening to you too, Lady Lenore.” He paid farewell with a polite bow.

There was a short pause. Mere seconds, before both vampires resumed their walks in opposite directions. In that space of seconds, Lenore lifted her chin slightly in approval. Despite her petite stature, she looked magnificently powerful, victoriously superior. She calmly walked away and Mykola’s eyes followed her, while he stood rooted in his spot. He was disgusted by the idea Lenore was married to a human. He was chewing his humiliation with bitter anger. His ego was mercilessly smashed by the knowledge Hector was a better partner than he ever was. Mykola always feared the day the redhead would throw at his face his failure in being a good companion and lover. His failure in keeping up to her demands and give this incredible woman what she needed. What she deserved. He always expected it to be a vampire. A nobleman, like himself. An intellectual, perhaps with a superior knowledge than himself. In his competitive mind, only a man with a similar status to his could ever impress Lenore. Never a human. Never a worthless mortal man. Never a plebeian without titles.

He didn’t care what Lenore told him. Hector was still a nobody. All the boy had was his magic and his good looks. How Hector managed to reach Lenore’s heart was a mystery to him. That was perhaps the human’s most impressive achievement. To succeed where he failed. Mykola was not heartbroken. He had once cared for Lenore. In all honesty, he still cared a bit for her. But not enough to be sad by her rejection. It was his pride as a man, as an aristocrat, as an intellectual that was wounded. Completely crushed. His ego was stabbed. This was perhaps, his life’s most humiliating moment and he could do nothing but swallow his pride and move on. Because, there was no way he was coming in between Lenore and Hector. Never had the redhead threatened him. She told him off when he would mess up her lovers’ minds in the past, but never threatened. Mykola knew Lenore. She was being serious about Hector. She would do justice to her words.

Lenore walked away. Her pace was quiet and gentle. Her demeanor was mellow and composed. Her eyes were celebrating in silent joy. Her lips grinned in pure malice. Mykola's persistent interference in her affairs for years after their break-up had been annoying. Regardless of how insufferable it became at times, that was something she could live with. But she could not take lightly Mykola filling Hector’s head with insecurities. Hector's getting hurt was unacceptable. Nobody messed with her man.

Lenore walked away, a wide grin on her face. She knew her little talk with Mykola had a much bigger impact than any insult or verbal spat; than any physical violent confrontation. While Hector slept exhausted but peacefully next to her; Lenore had spent long sleepless hours planning her retaliation meticulously. She was glad she waited till the end of the day and had not stormed right away in search of her ex-boyfriend. Because the old saying was true. Revenge is, beyond doubt, a dish best served cold.

…

It was around 4 in the morning when Lenore left the Council Room. She had spent a merry night in the company of her sisters. Every detail concerning the organization for the war was finally completed. They even settled a date for the army’s departure. They would wait another week, so they would have enough night creatures to secure the first invasions. Soldiers, weapons, undead horses, and any other material were also ready to go. They celebrated with virgin’s blood and laughed as they dreamed about their lives as rulers of a new great empire.

Lenore was in such a celebrating mood, she decided to check on Hector. She hoped he could leave the forge earlier, so they too could commemorate the event privately. She was thinking about certain lascivious lingerie the Forgemaster hadn’t seen yet when she heard a familiar stride. Her heart jumped from joyfulness. There he was, at the other end of the dark gallery, her human husband walking in his firm pace towards her. As the distance between them shortened, both smiled in recognition and amused by the pleasant unexpected encounter.

“Hello, Forgemaster.” Lenore greeted playfully and her ears picked his chuckle. “How lovely to see you again.”

“Hello, Princess.” He greeted back in the same playful tone. “It is always my pleasure in seeing you again.” They both giggled, before they shared a chaste kiss on the lips, followed by a hug.

“Ugh, what is that smell?” Lenore said while she wrinkled her nose and loosened from the man.

“Rotting Corpse Fragrance.”

“More like Sudden-Death Perfume. How can you stand that smell all night?”

“I’m used to it, doesn’t bother me anymore.” Hector told sheepishly with a shrug of his shoulders. He always arrived in his home before Lenore, so by the time she came, he had already taken a bath and dispensed the clothing in the wash. “I didn’t expect to find you here. I thought you had a meeting.”

“We finished early. Everything is set to go.” The vampire girl in a happy and proud manner. “I was actually heading to your forge to see if you could leave work earlier, so we could celebrate at home. It seems we are in synch.” She said seductively, while her index drew a line in the middle of his chest and traveled from top to waist. His lips curled in a knowing grin.

“Seems we are. I too was ready earlier today. Finished this week’s load. Tomorrow, the new corpses shipment will be delivered.”

“Is that so? I suggest then, we walk back to your little palace. Let’s get you out of that awful Rotting Corpse Fragrance of yours.” Lenore continued in her flirtatious register. Hector chuckled amused before he bent a bit and the couple engaged again in a kiss, only this time, it became deeper and more passionate.

“Oh my! Somebody call the fire brigade. Things are getting hot in here!” A high-pitched male voice echoed through the walls and both Hector and Lenore disentangled themselves startled.

Hector stared in confusion at the person heading towards them. The voice had been distinctly male, but this person was dressed up as a woman. The attire was colorful, flamboyant, and eccentric. The hair kept in a sophisticated tall tower-like style, with purple strands decorating the natural chocolate brown. The make-up was heavy and elaborated with strong colors. The walk was feminine, although Hector though it looked somewhat forced and exaggerated.

“Regina!” Lenore cheered when she recognized the woman. “How great to see you! You look fabulous, as always.”

“Lenore, honey! You look absolutely lovely as usual.” Regina complimented and Hector felt more confused by the moment.

Going by the name and clothing, this was a woman. But as Regina approached the pair, Hector couldn’t help and think all the heavy make-up was used to hide a masculine face. Regina was very tall and strong-build, similar to Striga. But unlike Regina, Striga has clearly feminine features and a feminine voice. Hector was almost certain, Regina was a man dressed as a woman, acting like a woman, but nevertheless, a man. She reminded him of ambulant theater actors, playing feminine roles, only in a much more sophisticated and refined version. “And who do we have here?” Regina turned to look at Hector with joyful curiosity. The man lifted his head to look up at the tall vampire and was too startled to smile in greeting. “You must be human Forgemaster.”

“He is.” Lenore answered for Hector, while she put her arm around his, in a demonstration of their intimate relationship. She did her best to not start laughing at the man’s puzzled look on his face. Everybody held that expression, the first time they encountered Regina and it was always hilarious. “Hector here is helping us build a stronger army with his night creatures and also contributing to our war strategy.”

“So the rumors about his permission into the Council Room are real?”

“They are.” Lenore proudly confirmed while she tugged the man a bit closer to her. She could sense his involuntary will of backing away from the giant vampire. “Regina is the main director of all cultural and artistic events in the castle.” She told and Hector looked from the redhead to Regina while he made a silent “oh”.

“You have beautiful eyes.” Regina said while she studied his face.

“Ehm – Thank you?” He replied unsure, taking a step back, while the tall vampire leaned slightly to look better at his face.

“Are they blue or green?”

“Blue.” He awkwardly said, feeling uncomfortable by the scrutinizing manner Regina was staring into his eyes, trying to get a reading from his iris pallet.

“Actually, they are aquamarine. There’s a hint of green in them. His eyes shade change according to the light.” Lenore corrected and Hector took the opportunity to break eye contact with Regina to look at the redhead.

“They do?”

“Yes. They become more of a bright blue in dim light, but the more illuminated space is, the greener they become. Hasn’t anybody told you that before?”

“No, not really.”

“What kind of people have you been hanging with?” Lenore asked, surprised this was a novelty to him. He had the most beautiful eyes she has ever seen. How was it possible nobody ever commented on their uniqueness? He merely lifted his shoulders once, translating his cluelessness.

“Obviously, not with the right folk.” Regina said with a knowing look. She smiled amused, reading again the puzzlement on the man’s face. “Poor boy, he’s completely confused. You are wondering if I’m a woman or a man, aren’t you?” She asked lightheartedly, not a hint of annoyance or indignation on her tone. Hector’s face went from puzzled to absolutely mortified and apologetic. Regina chuckled sincerely entertained by his reaction. “I’m technically a man, meaning I have – let’s say - the whole masculine baggage. But in my mind, I believe I’m a woman. When I was a child, I really thought I was a girl, until I understood the difference between male and female genitals.” 

“You are a misplaced soul!” Hector exclaimed, a glint reaching his eyes. It was Regina’s turn to look perplexed at the man and glanced over to Lenore, who shook her head, indicating she had no idea what the man was talking about. “When souls are sent into a body, they are adapted to the gender of the body they are inhabiting. On rare occasions, somewhere during the soul’s transference, something goes wrong and they enter a body with the other gender, causing an identity mishap. The soul thinks it has the opposite gender of its body.”

“Now, that’s an explanation I’ve never heard before.” Regina told sincerely pleased. “Most people react in a negative way. They range from shocked to appalled. Are always somehow derogatory. But your statement actually makes me sound logical and justified. A misplaced soul. I like it.”

“Well, it is only a theory about the soul’s journey to its new body.” Hector clarified. “It’s likely homosexuality is better explained through reincarnation.” Both Regina and Lenore stared at him expectantly, so he decided to elaborate. “It’s basically the concept a soul is very attached to the gender of its previous life or has reincarnated always in the same gender several times in a row. Because it still carries many unconscious memories of its previous life it will influence the person’s sexual orientation.”

“That would mean Striga was a man in her past life, right?” Lenore asked and Hector nodded.

“She will have to reincarnate at least one more time in a female body to lose her masculine memories and become heterosexual. But again, it’s all theoretical.”

“Very interesting.” Regina said with a praising tone. “You are an interesting young man.” She then turned to Lenore. “You haven’t forgotten about my party tomorrow, have you?”

“I have not.” Lenore told with a smile.

“Every month, I organize an intimate party, with my private circle of friends.” Regina explained Hector. “Lenore is a regular guest, but last month she forgot – Yes, Lenore, you forgot, I don’t care what excuses you make up. Besides, I think I know now what made you forget it, the first place - ” Regina quickly told, preventing the vampire girl from intervening, because she was already opening her mouth. The redhead had to chuckle amused at the accusation and bit her underlip guiltily, while she glanced up to an unaware Hector, who was looking up at Regina. “I would like you to attend to my party too, Hector.”

“Oh – I, ehm…” Hector stammered uncomfortable, the idea of going to a party making him anxious. The idea of going to a vampire party making him completely terrified. “I’m not much of a party goer.”

“Hector.” Lenore whispered in an insistent tone for him to accept the invitation.

“I hate parties. I hate being in crowded places. Especially with people, I don’t know.” He whispered back, forgetting vampires had a highly developed hearing.

“Nonsense. You will love it.” Regina assured. “My parties are of the finest quality. I invite-only a limited number of people because the main requirement is tolerance and respect for the different, the outcasted, and the misunderstood.” Hector looked at Regina lost for a decent reply. “Besides, I need you to make sure this little butterfly here doesn’t miss my party this time.”

“You can count on us.” Lenore cheerfully said while she pressed Hector’s arm. He gave her a pleading look, but her smile only widened. He sighed defeated. He really hated parties.


	17. The Party - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> Writer. Darktragicangel
> 
> Beta: Shadowking514
> 
> I appologize for the longest hiatus! And I am also thankful for your patience. I know a lot of people here await for this story with anticipation.  
> I've been away for two weeks, and when I started writting this chapter, it became more complex and longer than I had meant (nothing new here, right?). I was aiming for a light chapter, give a short break to the intensity of the previous chapters. The first part is still rather heavy or serious, but the second part became lighter and I actually enjoyed more this transition than having a light chapter from the beginning. At least, that is my opinion. XD
> 
> I'll try to go back to posting this story once in every two weeks, alternating with my other Castlevania fic. Cannot make it a promise, though.
> 
> Enjoy the reading!

Hector followed Lenore through hallways, arched galleries, and endless staircases. They made their way to the castle’s southern wing, an area that was still new for the Forgemaster. While they paced, he could not stop being impressed by the building’s dimensions, by its high ceilings and tall windows decorated with long golden drapes. He was distracted by the beauty of the architectonic ornaments, exquisite paintings, colorful tapestries. The castle’s interior lost completely its fortress character. The massive construction of heavy stones was camouflaged by the fluid design and stylish decorations of red, silver, and gold. It transmitted warmth and splendor. It created a homely atmosphere. Ultimately, it had a female character. Its grace reflected Styrian’s female power.

It was a perfect contrast to Dracula’s castle. The Vampire’s Lord building was impressive too, quite to an extreme; but in a very imponent and strong manner. It's exterior inspired unbreakable power. It was an impenetrable fortress from the outside and its interior extended its intimidating character. Hector recalled thinking, the first time he entered the building, that the cold dark walls felt unwelcoming and chilly. There seemed to be an aura of threat in the chaotic and labyrinthic network of corridors and staircases. It took weeks before the Forgemaster could find his way without losing himself. It didn’t really bother him, since each new detour brought him to a new magnificent hall, chamber, or an outside bridge. Hector would have enjoyed the mystery in the castle’s confusing plan, even more, were it not for the heavy solitude sensation that engulfed him during his little expeditions. Dracula’s castle was a reflection of its master. It was masculine, unyielding, and lonely. While the Styrian castle was filled with the brightness of luxury, celebrating the pleasures of life; Dracula’s castle was a place of sadness, a void of darkness, filled with death and grief. The former General was sure it had looked and felt very differently when Lisa was alive.

“Hector, is everything okay?” Lenore asked when he didn’t react after she asked him the same question twice. “You are not that upset about going to the party, are you?”

“I am not happy I have to attend it.” The Forgemaster told, after shaking his head and sending away his melancholic wonderings. “I hate parties.”

“Yes. So, you have told. Like about two hundred times.” Lenore told in a carefree playful manner.

“Excuse me for not being excited with the prospect of entering a room full of cold bloodthirsty vampires.” Hector complained. “And I didn’t tell you that two hundred times!”

“It sure felt like that.” Lenore murmured low, while she grinned humored. Hector resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead released a sigh. “Nobody is going to try and drink your blood, Hector. We are not monsters. Besides, this is the perfect opportunity for you to be acquainted with our vampire culture. Aren’t you curious about our ways?”

“I am. I’m just not good at socializing. I hate engaging in small talk with strangers.” Hector told with a dark tone while they turned a corner.

“You are a pleasant conversationalist.” Lenore reassured.

“I’ll be the only human there. I’ll be in the spotlight for God knows how many prying eyes!”

“Dramatic.” Lenore commented in a chuckle while she stopped to turn to Hector. She laced her arms around his neck and pulled him down to press her lips on his. “Just be yourself. And if people become too nosy, give them short answers, and don’t give away any details. Keep everything to a superficial level.” She gave him another chaste kiss and studied his face. He didn’t look quite convinced.

“I have a suggestion.” Hector said with a teasing smile. “Why don’t we ditch this party, go back home, and make out?” The redhead emitted an entertained giggle and the human smiled proudly he succeeded in provoking that cute sound. They shared another few kisses.

“As tempting as it sounds, Regina will never forgive me if I miss her party again.” Lenore told with a pout, while her hand traveled to his. They intertwined their fingers. “We can leave earlier if you want to.”

“We’ll most certainly leave earlier. Do you know why?” He asked with a playful grin on his lips.

“Because you hate parties.” Lenore told knowingly.

“Because I hate parties.” He confirmed in a chuckle before sharing the last kiss with his wife.

“Two-hundred and one.” The vampire quipped and Hector laughed amused while he shook his head.

They resumed their walk, holding hands and laughing the way young lovers do. On the way, Hector spotted a cat with beautiful colorful calico fur. He and the animal made eye contact, and the Forgemaster instinctively smiled, but before he could even greet the feline, the redhead pulled him to climb the final steps before halting in front of a door. She knocked on the wood. Short seconds flew before de door was opened, the sound of multiple voices of chatter and laughter traveling to the silent doorstep.

“Lenore! You made it!” Regina cheered a bit louder than needed, opening her arms wide to give a warm and heartfelt hug. The women greeted with a kiss on each cheek. “And you brought your gorgeous Forgemaster.” She added while giving an appreciative look at the human.

Lenore had picked a formal stylish attire for Hector. She purposely chose the colors of his old General uniform, hoping its familiarity would evoke in the man some of the sense of power, respect, and dignity he bore those days. Hector had not made any comment about the obvious similarities, but his eyes glinted sincerely when he verbalized his gratitude. The redhead wanted to boost his self-confidence and was sure when he saw his reflection in the mirror, he recognized some of the old glory he probably thought lost. Besides, Lenore absolutely loved how hot he looked in those black leather pants, just like the way the color of his jacket enhanced the blue in his eyes. The Forgemaster looked stunning. The redhead grinned triumphant at Regina’s approving look, although, he could see in Hector’s tensed shoulders, he did not share her bliss. One thing was certain, he was going to make some heads turn tonight, and it wasn’t because he was mortal.

Regina went to greet Hector with the same enthusiasm as she did with Lenore. The human was taken completely by surprise. Lenore snorted amused at the way his eyes grew wide in fright. He futilely attempted to step backward when Regina moved to hug him tightly. To his horror, Regina held his face in her large strong hands and pressed her lips hard on each cheek. Lenore chuckled at the human’s bewildered look and at the way his hands remained awkwardly somewhere midair, without knowing what to do with them. “How kind of you to make sure _she_ didn’t miss the event,” Regina added while releasing a very started and unbalanced Hector. He glanced over at the redhead with a panicked look on his face. Lenore came to his rescue, and held his hand on hers again, guiding him into the room.

“Please tell me this is not the customary greeting among you vampires.” Hector whispered, horrified at the idea of being greeted like this by a bunch of strangers.

“It is not.” Lenore reassured in a giggle.

Regina took a few steps further into the room. The woman trapped in a man’s body, dramatically announced Lady Lenore and Hector, the Forgemaster’s arrival. The redhead’s grip around her husband’s hand strengthened, when she felt his muscles contract, indicating the desire and impulse to flee. The room fell silent. There were about thirty people and all of them had their eyes directed on the uncommon guest. Hector’s heart jumped into a frenzied heartbeat, feeling suddenly exposed. It was like he was being swallowed by all those sets of inquisitive eyes. Lenore gave a small squeeze on Hector’s hand, making him glance at her and meet her sweet, comforting, encouraging gaze.

For a second, Hector distrusted that gaze. For a second, his traumatic memory flashed back to the agonizing evening he lived in his cell, about one month ago. She had given him that exact same look when she confessed to liking him. When she proposed to run away with him. When she lied about giving him a choice. Hector forced himself to steady his breathing. He didn’t want to get trapped in that memory, in the horrific moment Lenore tricked him. Betrayed him. Hurt him. Because so much had happened since then.

Had it really only been one month? Such a short time? It felt much longer. Lenore had regretted her actions. She had promised she would change. She had promised she would keep him safe in a world of vampires. Up to now, Lenore had kept her word. She had been doing her best to earn his trust back. She had been nothing but kind and caring and loving to him. Yet, in this very pivotal second, Hector realized, to his own shock - he still didn’t quite trust her, yet.

Their gazes were locked. Hector wondered if Lenore could read the distrust and insecurity surface in his eyes. His vampire wife held that tender look, matched with a gentle smile. Hector’s lips automatically lifted a bit. He thought she was so beautiful; it was impossible not to get lost in the depths of those red orbs. Lenore betrayed him once. Lenore was doing her best to make up for her betrayal, every day. Hector swallowed dryly. He still couldn’t quite shake away the feeling of being with Lenore was a risk. But he knew it was a risk worth taking. He squeezed his hand in Lenore’s while he nodded. The couple entered the room together.

…

The first minutes were like a haze. Unfamiliar faces glanced at Hector with curiosity. Soft whispers rose in the air, an unwelcome noise of intelligible words, hitting Hector’s ears like thunder. He avoided eye contact, afraid it would be an invitation to start an unwanted conversation. Because his eyes did not linger enough to study anybody’s features properly, faces became a confusing blur of shapes and colors. Hector also preferred not to read the vampires’ expressions, because he already knew what he would see. Curiosity and amusement. Envy and judgment. Loathing and disdain. Everything that reflected people’s view on the things that determined his condition. He was human. He was a dark sorcerer. He was misplaced. He was different.

Hector suddenly had a dejá-Vu. His memory brought him back to his first meeting with Dracula’s Generals in the War Room. He almost expected to hear Godbrand express his disapproval, outrage, and disgust. Hector was aware he held an exclusivity nobody else had in Styria, and that was access to the Council Room. He almost expected to hear the Viking’s voice roaring the claim a human did not belong in the vampire Court. To hear how a human should never hold power and status denied to all vampires. But nothing of such happened. There was no mean remark, no angry scolding, no verbalization of his unjust privileges. Instead, he was continuously blindly guided by Lenore through the room.

Lenore graciously greeted the guests as she walked by. Hector greeted them with a silent, polite nod, his eyes always eluding others at all cost. He held his head high, refusing to denounce his insecurity in his body language. Hector was sure he gave the impression of being cold, closed, and arrogant. He had been accused of such before. But it was a mask he automatically put on whenever he was anxious, and he could not help himself. He apparently succeeded in hiding his nerves so well, that he got easily misinterpreted. Normally, people’s first impression of him was that he was distant and unkind.

Hector was terrified of triggering the start of any unpleasant confrontation, so he dutifully followed Lenore. He heard voices but did not listen to them. His brains didn’t make out words or sentences. Voices became nothing but a sensory confusion of sounds, bearing no logic, making no sense. He was sure there were phrases of greeting, perhaps even kind words, for they sounded warm. But Hector didn’t care for their contents. He was certain, whatever was being told, was fake. A façade of false kindness to hide the true judgmental and condemnatory thoughts. He had been before in meetings, in parties, in social gatherings. And he learned people always want something from others. Their sympathy will only survive as long as the hope of gaining something remains alive. Which always died quickly in Hector’s case, the moment people realized he was not quite like the rest of mankind. He was always the odd kid, with odd interests and ideas. He was the creepy fellow fascinated by the occult and dark arts. He was the danger because he carried magic in him that came from the Devil. Memories of angry faces and angry voices filled his mind with hard insults and painful accusations. Suddenly, his memory brought him back to some village he could no longer remember the name of and was being insulted, threatened, expelled with incensed screams. Suddenly Hector felt claustrophobic, the lights, the chatter, the colors becoming too much, too loud, too intense.

“Hector!” A familiar young man’s voice called out and brought Hector back from his traumatic flashback. The Forgemaster felt himself return to the present. He could feel his heart drumming hard under his chest, which was hurting and then he realized, he had been holding his breath for a while. He inhaled deeply while shaking slight dizziness from his head.

“Are you okay?” Lenore asked, giving him a look of concern.

“Hmm, yeah. I’m fine.” Hector quickly answered and released his grip from Lenore’s hand, the gesture reaffirming his statement.

“You look pale.” The redhead insisted, a slight wrinkle on her brow.

“I’m okay, really.” He reassured and redirected his gaze to the man who had called him. The young vampire was walking towards the couple and held a genuine wide smile. The Devil’s Forgemaster pressed his eyebrows together. There was something familiar about him, but he could not quite pinpoint it.

“You probably don’t recognize me without the armor.” The male vampire told cheerfully, once he stood opposite the human.

“Timothee!” The Forgemaster immediately said, recognizing the voice and the grin. Hector’s face brightened happily, while a surge of relief swept all over his body. Lenore was positively surprised with how relaxed the human became all of the sudden. Apparently, he had made a vampire friend and kept it from her. But she didn’t mind. Lenore was glad he did. Timothee was a good kid, a young vampire only half a century old. The boy was well-known for his energetic enthusiasm about science and all the old knowledge she and the other vampires had taken for granted with the passing of centuries. She could see why the two got along. Timothee was only 20 when he was turned and had the same kind of curiosity about the world as Hector.

“How great you are at the party too! I didn't expect to see you here.” Timothee gleefully said while he handed Lenore and Hector goblets with a red liquid. The Forgemaster looked at his drink suspiciously and then faced the other man with an arched eyebrow. “Wine, Hector. You didn’t think I would give you blood, did you?” The male vampire added in a teasing tone, while Lenore chuckled amused.

“No, of course not. Why would I? You are all just vampires, after all.” Hector said with playful sarcasm. “Lenore, do you know Timothee? He's one of the soldiers guarding my workplace. Wednesdays and Thursdays.” Hector told and the vampire girl nodded, hiding a giggle while taking a sip of her wine. Of course, she knew Timothee. She knew everybody at this party. But it was too precious to watch her husband this happy. She didn’t want to spoil the moment.

“Hey, did you get to see that book I told you about yesterday?” Timothee asked in almost a secretive whisper.

“I meant to, but … I kind of got sidetracked.” Hector told sheepishly, while she glanced over Lenore for a second, a look of mischief and complicity on his grin. The redhead retributed the smile and her eyes twinkled in amusement, because of the other male’s confused look. It took him some seconds to understand the underlying message and emitted a silent “oh” before he hastily took a sip of his wine to camouflage his awkwardness. Her eyes then fell on somebody and she waved energetically. Hector followed her gaze because Lenore was practically jumping from excitement.

“Morana and Striga?” Hector murmured surprised. He didn’t really know why he was this amazed, because he should have expected the other sisters to join this party too. They were, after all, the castle’s most influential inhabitants. “Please, tell me that bi– ehm – Carmilla is not coming.” He said, holding his tongue in time because Lenore was giving him a scolding stare.

“Do not worry, Forgemaster. That _bitch_ never attends Regina’s parties.” Striga told with a rare playful grin on her face, her voice stressing the insult Hector had swallowed, making him blush from embarrassment.

“I did not call her that.” He quickly told in his defense.

“But you were going to.” Morana cleverly pointed out, both her hands holding onto one of Striga’s biceps.

“Can you blame me for it?” Hector questioned darkly, his look a mix of guilt and annoyance.

“No. But, she is still the Queen of Styria. Your queen. You serve her, remember? Like it or not.” Morana calmly told and Hector’s look only intensified. “Keep it to a polite level, will you, Forgemaster?”

“Of course, Lady Morana.” He said, quickly hiding his defeat through a well-mannered demeanor. “But, may I ask, why doesn’t she attend these parties?”

“Carmilla and Regina don’t like each other.” Striga told with a humorous chuckle and Morana gave her a small admonishing nudge. Hector looked from one to the other with curiosity.

“Carmilla thinks of Regina as too strange and eccentric and Regina finds Carmilla unpleasant and uninteresting.” Lenore filled Hector in, while Striga and Morana switched knowing looks among themselves. He would swear he heard Striga say « _Yeah, to put it mildly_ ». The Forgemaster glanced over Timothee and he shook his shoulders.

“I think I’m starting to like Regina.” Hector told, the idea there was another person in this castle, somebody with obviously quite some influence in the Styrian community; that didn’t like Carmilla, was absolutely thrilling. “How does the saying go? The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“Hector!” Lenore said in a reproving tone.

“Come on. She beat the crap out of me!” The human insisted annoyed and tired with Lenore’s persistence in defending her sister. He didn’t care if they were best friends, if Carmilla sired Lenore, he still hated her.

“Looks like somebody can hold a grudge.” Striga commented amused, earning another playful nudge from Morana.

“And then she stole my boots!” The human continued upset.

“Why did she steal your boots?” Timothee asked, finding the whole idea rather weird.

“She was wearing bloody high heels.” Hector explained outraged. Timothee raised his eyebrows, the explanation still being far from sufficient. He figured out the mortal was talking about the long march that followed the failed attack on Brailla and decided not to insist, since it was obviously irritating the man.

“Is this why you kept insisting about the boots?” Lenore questioned surprised, his persistence in this subject suddenly becoming clear. “I can get her to return them to you if you want your boots back so bad.”

“Ugh, no. Her feet have been inside of them. The boots are contaminated with her Carmillaness.” Hector said with clear disgust, for the vampires’ amusement. A loud, crystalline male laughter rose in the air, while Regina made her way to join the group.

“Well, I would never want to wear something that touched that ice-queen’s skin either, although I doubt anything she wears will ever fit me.” Regina said while she winked at Hector with complicity, and the human failed in resisting a mischievous grin. “But in all seriousness. I’ve heard stories about the queen and her daily brutality towards you. I’m surprised you survived such an ordeal and reached the castle with only cuts and bruises. You must be strong for a human.”

“Well, I do suppose she was careful enough to beat me without breaking my bones. It wasn’t pleas- oooh!” Hector’s sentence remained unfinished when suddenly he felt a weight land on his shoulder. The calico cat from earlier had somehow found its way to the chamber and decided to jump on the human’s shoulder. The vampires around him laughed amused. Most guests turned around to see what was going on. Some even watched the cat’s display of affection with a mild adoration. “Hey, you there.” Hector kindly greeted the feline, only needing a second to recover from his surprise. His fingers found the back of the cat and it purred happily, while it headbutted against his face repeatedly. “Oh! You are a sweet one.”

“You can always tell somebody is a good person when an animal likes them.” Regina told the small group approvingly, but her distinct deep male voice traveled easily across the room. Some vampires remained watching the scene and smile involuntary reached their faces. The cat kept rubbing its head against the human’s face. It also moved from one shoulder to the other, rubbing its body against the back of the man’s head, showering him with enthusiastic fondness.

“Pfff, okay - that -pfff, that’s enough now.” The Forgemaster said, blowing some of the hair off his mouth. He carefully removed the cat from his shoulders to gently place it on the floor. The calico cat meowed in protest and immediately jumped back to the man’s arms. “Wow! Okay then.” Hector said half startled but quickly indulged the cat with a nice rubbing behind its ears. The animal accommodated itself against the man’s chest, lying comfortably on his left arm. It purred loudly, eyes closed and bunting continuously.

“Ooooh, he likes you.” Lenore said with an overly sweet tone, while she too petted the cat’s head. She turned her head to look behind her when she heard a female’s very low but audible enough voice say « _I would like to rub myself like that against him too_ ». Lenore locked her eye’s on the woman, a flash of crimson with a look of warning, making sure the girl understood Hector was hers. The other stared back at the redhead with fear. She muttered a silent “sorry”, while she gave a sheepish smile. Lenore’s face relaxed and then she redirected her attention to the Forgemaster.

“Does he have a master?” Hector asked while he buried his fingers in the soft fur for the cat’s delight. “Looks well cared.”

“Dante was Isidoro’s cat, but he died at Brailla.” Timothee filled in. “Has been wandering the castle since then and kind of became everybody’s cat. But he seems to have taken a liking for you.”

“Dante? What a great name.” Hector contemplated. He looked down at the blissfully relaxed feline. “Do you want to go home with me, buddy?”

“Are you keeping him? You should keep him. Look how happy the little fellow is.” Lenore said in an excited tone, delighted to see Hector as happy as the cat he was holding.

“Of course I’m keeping him. He chose me.” Hector told in a matter of fact tone. He then turned to look at Lenore. “Who am I to refuse when such a fine creature chooses me?” He added and Lenore actually felt heat travel her body.

She understood the double meaning behind his words, that they were now directed to her. The redhead smiled tenderly, suddenly feeling proud for having gained so much more than just loyalty from this mortal man. This amazing human with so many great qualities, which he didn’t see, didn’t even recognize half of them. She ignored the girl’s low voice behind her saying « _oh, do take me home, pretty boy._ » and the silly giggles that followed. There was no need to be annoyed. Because Lenore knew, regardless of how they met, of how wrong their relationship started, how different their worlds were, Hector too had chosen her. Lenore glanced around. Vampires had meanwhile resumed their conversations; the human and feline cute interaction having lost its interest.

Yet, Lenore had witnessed the way their eyes had watched the strange human sorcerer with kinder and trustier looks. She knew most of the people in this party were still reticent about Hector and his functions in the Styrian court. But she was also sure they had warmed a bit to him thanks to this spontaneous moment. The evening was still young. The party had just begun. Regina’s guests were certainly the most tolerant group of vampires in the castle. Tonight, she would seize the opportunity to slowly convince her fellow-vampires to accept Hector in their society. Once he would receive their approval, she would work in strengthening his reputation towards the lesser tolerant vampires. She looked back at her human husband. Hector and Timothee were already engaged in some intricate topic about vampire science.

Dante, the calico cat, slept soundly on the human’s arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how I started writting about the "character" of the castles in the beginning of the chapter, some things just flow naturally.
> 
> Poor Hector lived a short PTSD moment there in the party. 
> 
> Finnaly, the cat scene was inspired in a youtube video of a journalist who has a cat jump on her shoulder while reporting. It was so cute and I could totally see that happening to Hector. Also, I just felt like giving the man a furry friend. <3
> 
> The cat is called Dante, inspired on the Italian writer Dante Alighieri (1265 – 1321), who wrote "Divine Comedy". It describes Dante's journey through Hell (Inferno), Purgatory (Purgatorio), and Paradise.


	18. The Party - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> Writer: Darktragicangel
> 
> Beta: Shadowking514

Timothee was thrilled for having found Hector at the party. He was the youngest vampire in the castle, only turned 30 years ago. He was, therefore, often teased for his ignorance and excitement about the wondrous technology and science vampires had collected and maintained for millennia. Meeting somebody like Hector was both refreshing and thrilling. He finally had found somebody who, not only shared the same enthusiasm in learning new things but mainly, was avid in listening to his most recent discoveries. The mortal also challenged him with questions nobody else ever asked, because vampires had taken everything for granted for a very long time.

The first time they talked was during Timothee’s second week in duty, and it was all because the lights in Hector’s forge went suddenly out. The vampire had been more than helpful that night. The human, who absolutely hated cold, had set the heating on its highest, ignorant of the fact the forge was still using one of the oldest systems of the castle. The energy had gone out because of the overload of power. Timothee, who was bored from standing the whole day by the door doing nothing, while his curiosity about the Forgemaster’s work consumed him; offered to fix the problem. Which proved to be more difficult than expected.

Night creatures followed their master and the vampire’s movements under the yellow dim light of candles. The men analyzed tubes and pipes, lamps and conduct, small boxes hidden in the walls with all kinds of small levers and buttons. Timothee had been almost as clueless as Hector about the workings of the system, but both men shared the same stubbornness and inquisitiveness. Both were too proud to ask for help, both needing to prove themselves (and the vampires) they could deal with any challenge. It took them almost two hours to figure out what was wrong and how to solve it. It had been a long exhausting process of teamwork, intensive cooperation, patience endurance during nerve-wracking frustrations. They celebrated their victory with loud cheering and laughter. Since then, every Wednesday and Thursday, Hector would take his breaks with the company of Timothee and they always remained a while conversing when a work’s days were concluded. A carefree friendship was born.

Hector liked Timothee. He struck him as the sincere and spontaneous type, well-educated and liberal. He was the first vampire that made the human forget they belonged to different species. Not once had he acted superior. The Forgemaster wondered if it was the young man’s personality or if it was because he had been turned so recently and was still attached to his human past. Anyway, Timothee was quite the chatter. Normally that would be a turn down for Hector, but there was something of a childlike enthusiasm in the vampire that made it enjoyable.

Timothee jumped easily from topic to topic, and the Devil’s Forgemaster was thankful for Dracula’s library, otherwise, he would have been completely clueless about most of the things the vampire brought up. Such as a method called transfusion, which was used for the stocking of blood. An unharming method for taking blood from humans without injuring them.

Hector was also glad Dracula had shown him once, what he called a telescope, otherwise, he would have had no idea what glass lenses were and how they amplified the sight so many times, it became possible to observe planets and stars invisible to the naked eye. Just like the world’s tiniest beings, _bacteria_ they called them, responsible for most diseases and deaths in humans. Hector remembered Dracula telling him proudly about Lisa’s medical research in defeating these invisible creatures. That had been a year before her death.

The Forgemaster would have been fine if he would have spent the whole party with Timothee’s company. They stood in an inconspicuous corner of the room, far from the light, far from the other vampires, far from all the noise and movements. But suddenly, Regina showed up. Hector was quite sure it had been Lenore that put him - no, her, up to this. Regina’s way too loud and all-over the place energy had suddenly her arm wrapped around his and was dragging the reluctant Forgemaster out of his comfort zone to the den of the lions. Timothee limited himself in giving a goofy grin and Hector sent him a deadly glare while he was being forcibly escorted to the opposite side of the room. His heart raced from anxiety and the lights became suddenly too bright for his liking. There were too many colors, too many movements, too many faces. Everything was loud with voices of chatter and laughter. In the midst of this chaos of impressions, Hector recognized one specific shade of red. He called out for Lenore, a whisper intended to be only heard by the vampire girl.

It worked. She heard him and turned around. Their eyes met. Hector’s heart almost jumped out of his throat at the look of victory in her orbs. Yes, she had definitely put Regina up to this and now he was screwed. Suddenly his neck felt tight and, in his mind, he was back on a leash, being dragged to the castle’s cold patio. He was back being a pet in training, he was no longer a real person. He truly hated when Lenore presented things in a way it led him into believing he had a choice, while she was the one holding the strings the entire time. It was revolting, it was frustrating, it made him despair and want to shout curses at her beautiful devilish face.

Hector should have known better. Like she was ever going to allow him to leave this party earlier. She wanted him to meet these godforsaken vampires, for some unimaginable reason, and he was going to talk to them, liked it or not. Still, Hector’s lips drew a silent _Help me_ with the futile hope she would show him mercy _._ Lenore grinned, a smile between pride and mischief. Her mortal human husband pressed his eyebrows together, clearly upset, and, for her amusement, threw her a silent _Traitor._ She swallowed a chuckle and turned her back to him.

Hector’s annoyance towards the vampire girl was abruptly forgotten when Regina introduced him to a group of vampires. His throat went instantly dry, his tongue sour. His heart started beating even faster, drumming loudly under his chest. Because there were five sets of bright eyes fixed on him, all filled with curiosity. He was panicking. He was paralyzed. It had become difficult to breathe and he was lightheaded. Hector wanted to break eye contact but didn’t manage. His gaze traveled from a pair of eyes to a pair of eyes, cursing internally for their luridness. His tongue turned into ashes, while his brains screamed to say something clever. It didn’t matter, anyway, he was sure whatever he would say would sound embarrassingly silly, reflecting his ignorance as a young mortal. Whatever he said, he would certainly sound like a fool.

Hector had never been good at socializing. Whereas he was good with the one on one conversation, he was a disaster in groups. There were too many faces. Too many expressions to read, too many voices to focus on. He became horribly self-conscious of his flaws and knew, the tiniest expression, the slightest gesture, every single breath he took, would be observed and analyzed with scrutiny. Judged, condemned, ridiculed, and banished. Social gatherings were a nightmare because it was him alone against a world of preconceived ideas, where he never fit in. Regina must have sensed his nerves, because, before he could utter a word, she intervened, wanting to break the ice.

“This evening, I discovered two things Hector and I both share.” The eccentric woman told in a _guess-what_ tone. The five vampires and the Forgemaster, all stared at her expectant, while she purposely paused to stretch the suspense. “We both have a dick and a resentful hatred towards Carmilla.”

Everybody laughed spontaneously at the unexpected quip. Even Hector chuckled amused. Regina’s joke broke some of the tension and, while the others made funny comments among chuckles, Hector brought a hand to his temple. While he sighed heavily, and then his eyes grew large and he quickly dropped his arm to join his hands behind his back. His hand was shaking a lot. Then, a weight pressed on his shoulder and he lifted his gaze to meet Regina’s. She winked at him once, a knowing smile on her lips, while her large fingers gave a gentle reassuring squeeze on his shoulder.

The small gesture was enough for the Forgemaster to understand what was really going on. A great relief washed over him and he exhaled thankfully. Of course, Lenore had put Regina up to this. The redhead had tasked the party hostess to watch over him. Because he had complained the whole day about the party. Because he had acted uncharacteristically anxious. Made up all kind of excuses and arguments to avoid this social event. And Lenore, the always clever shrewd Lenore, had seen right through him. She had understood his worries and terrors, probably even better than himself.

The realization Regina was there to support him, instead of Lenore, was enough for Hector to finally understand what the redhead’s goal was. The vampire girl wanted him to become more familiar with her community. She wanted the vampires to get to learn Hector. Lenore wanted Hector to stand up for himself as an individual, as a human, as a Devil’s Forgemaster, without looking attached or dependent on Lenore. Who else, but Regina, to the best person to introduce him to the party’s guests? He smiled at the woman in sincere gratitude.

His ears then picked a voice. One of the vampires was asking him how a mortal man made acquaintance with Dracula. Hector broke eye contact with Regina to face the group. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the needed courage and confidence. His shoulders relaxed, just like his face. His eyes became softer, a shy glint at the memory of his former Master, accompanied by a gentle smile. He told them Dracula had sought him out during his travels. That he had heard about him from scholars in town. And came to pay him a visit in his house in Rhodes.

His first syllables had sounded hoarse, a bit cracked, a result of the overbearing nerves. There was even a hint of a trembling. But by each new outspoken word, by each new sentence; Hector’s voice became steadier and warmer, his discourse more fluid. Regina scanned the faces of the vampires while the human talked. They were listening with interest; their hungry curiosity finally being satiated. Her face became soft and warm. When the Forgemaster had looked at her, he was white, with fearful and vulnerable glistening eyes. He had looked so terrified, Regina thought he going to have a panic attack. Because Lenore had warned something of the kind could happen.

Lenore had sought Regina out earlier that evening, while she was still busy with the party’s preparations. The redhead had told her she suspected Hector suffered from social anxiety. Lenore had confined to Regina, the man had hinted a few times he had suffered traumatic experiences with humans, although he never really specified how or went into details. She also told Regina, he had been working himself up from the moment she agreed they would attend the party together, which was uncharacteristic for him. It was like he was being held by an uncontrollable and irrational fear he did not have the power to shake off. The redhead had thus asked Regina to look over the human during the party, which the woman gladly agreed to. The day Reginauld became Regina, Lenore had been the castle’s first vampire to accept her. Not only that, but she had been the first one to demonstrate her full support in Regina’s choice. She showed understanding and acknowledged this transition as something natural instead of radical. Regina knew Lenore had been the one teaching the Styrians to become more tolerant and understanding about her choice. Slowly, Regina started being reaccepted in the community, receiving also Striga’s and Morana’s support. Within time, as Regina’s reputation grew stronger, she became the voice for any pariah in the castle, for anybody that felt misplaced or different. She supported the misunderstood by giving them a place to express their views through the arts, through informative nights, through social gatherings. The silenced and banished finally had found a place where they could use their voice without being mocked, ridiculed, insulted, condemned. And it had been all thanks to Lenore.

Regina would do anything to help the vampire girl. She would do anything to protect another victim from society’s closed and damaging preconceptions. She had recognized in Hector, the same tolerance and open-mindedness as in Lenore, which had made her instantly take a liking for the mortal. Regina observed hector interacting with a small group of vampires. Little by little, he visibly conquered his fears. He was acting so naturally, it was as if he never had been nervous at all. Regina turned a bit around to look behind her. Her gaze searched for Lenore and found her standing from across the room. She was staring at Regina with her intense large doe eyes, looking scared, looking expectant. Regina nodded with a victorious smile. Lenore’s face brightened up from happy relief.

…

The party went on and on and on.

Vampires chatted and chatted and chatted.

Relentlessly. Tirelessly. Endlessly.

Hector’s head was spinning from all the voices, from the sight of many lips adorned with long fangs, asking him questions about his life before and after Dracula. Hector never had expected socializing to be this exhausting. The Devil’s Forgemaster suddenly felt nostalgic for the days when he was ostracized, and nobody wanted anything to do with him. Because he was being bombarded with all kinds of questions, from the most interesting to the most trivial and irrelevant. Yet, Hector did his best to hide his tiredness and growing impatience, a result of his tiredness. Because, halfway the evening, he understood he was going to keep receiving the same question over and over again.

He should have expected it. Everybody wanted to know if the stories were real. If he truly had served Dracula. If he was truly a Forgemaster. If he was building an army for Carmilla as he had done for the Vampire Lord. Hector understood, they were trying to verify the veracity of the stories about him. And to his surprise, he basically only needed to confirm them. Including, and to his pleasure, the unjust manner Carmilla mistreated him after he aided her with her coup. The Forgemaster did nothing to favor the queen, leaving none of her abuse, violence, intolerance, and despise towards him out of his story. He was careful to make sure none of the sisters were ever close enough to hear his complaints. If he could not hurt Carmilla personally because of Lenore’s stupid magical ring, he would make sure he would stain the queen’s reputation as much as possible. After all, Regina disliked her, chances the other party guests shared her opinion were great.

“The Forgemaster is having quite a busy time during his free night.” Striga commented to Lenore when the sisters came across each other. “Carmilla’s ears must be burning from all the ill things your mortal husband is telling about her.”

“Oh God, I should have expected he would not hold his tongue regarding her.” Lenore said in an exasperated sigh.

“You brought him to Regina’s party, what did you expect?” Morana questioned in a chuckle and Lenore resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was pondering to interrupt Hector and take him away from the party. She had been paying close attention to his wine glass and was quite certain he was on the third one already. Which meant he was loosening up too much and becoming careless. “What is he saying about our ice queen?” Morana asked her lover.

“The usual. That she beat the crap out of him after he helped her in Brailla. Stole his boots and forced him to walk barefoot for 800 miles, used him as her personal punch bag until they reached Styria.” Striga said in a half bored, half humored manner. “He is claiming his cell was pleasant compared to his march to the castle.” Striga then paused and chuckled amused afterward. “He’s becoming more descriptive, giving more details at each sip of wine.”

“Shit, he’s probably already drunk.” Lenore complained upset. “Please, excuse me, girls.” Lenore politely told, while she calmly walked towards Hector. Regina was supposed to keep an eye on him, not stimulate him to burn Carmilla. But then, Morana had been right. What did she expect? She put the two people that most hated Carmilla together and gave them Carte Blanche. Striga and Morana chuckled amused at the situation.

“You know, listening to all what Carmilla did to him, almost makes me feel sorry for the bastard.” Striga commented after Lenore left them.

“Was she that horrible to him?” Morana asked curious, an entertained smile on her lips. Striga grinned.

“Not as horrible if it had been you instead of Carmilla.” Both women giggled amused at the response.

Lenore was on her way towards Hector when she was stopped by a couple. She resisted an impatient groan because she had already spoken with them twice this evening, but they were the distracted, head-in-the-clouds type. She listened to their almost dreamy register without really paying attention to what they were saying. Hector had just left the group he had been talking with and went to the table to refill his glass with more wine. Lenore’s eyes moved discretely from Hector to the couple, nodding and smiling, while she prepared to excuse herself. Then her eyes picked familiar females' voices and turned to look at the human again. She froze and ceased to listen to the couple at all.

Hector sensed the conversation’s topic had reached its end and politely moved away from the group before another question would emerge. He was feeling mentally drained and decided he needed another drink. He could feel he was lightheaded and knew it had nothing to do with his tiredness. Yet, he really needed the relaxing effects of alcohol. The human refilled his glass, thinking he had drunk too much to be steady on his feet, but too little to have the courage to face another inquiry. He then heard a woman’s voice and some giggling behind him and turned around, his wine glass generously filled. Standing in front of him were three young smiling vampire women. He blinked confused.

“Shit, I must really be drunk, I’m already seeing in triple!” Hector muttered sincerely confused and the three women giggled at his reaction.

“We are triplets.” They said in unison.

“Oh – right, well that’s a relieve.” The Forgemaster said in a chuckle, while he gave an adorable silly inebriated smile. His cheeks were rosy from the effects of the wine, the color enhancing his pleasant mortality, and his handsome features. “You know, it doesn’t help that you are all dressed in the same fashion and colors.”

“We enjoy confusing people.” The middle triplet said teasingly, while the women exchanged mischievous looks.

“I bet you do.” He said with an arched eyebrow, before taking a sip of his wine. It became clear he was quite intoxicated, for the triplets growing amusement.

“We enjoy doing many things together.” The third triplet told, in a suggestive tone. Hector’s eyebrow’s pressed, sensing something in her tone he couldn’t quite pick. 

“You do? Such as?” The Forgemaster asked sincerely curious. He was wondering what kind of life three identical triplets could lead.

“Dancing.” One told.

“Partying.” Another added.

“Making love.” The last one said.

“Wait – What?” Hector blurted, his eyes widening, not sure he had perceived their words properly.

“If you are interested, you can join us and we can take this party elsewhere.” The first spoke in a malicious seductive whisper. Suddenly, all three vampires were staring at him with hungry eyes, a strange glint in their blue orbs. Their tongues licked their lips and one fang in an impossibly synchronic manner. Hector stared back in shock, while he felt all the blood rise to his face, making his cheeks feel impossibly hot. Never in his life had he received such a proposal. There was also something odd in the way they were staring at him, which made his heart race, feeling both drawn and frightened at the same time.

“I-I…Ehm, I appreciate the, uh – suggestion? But I cannot, I-I…” Hector stumbled in his own words not quite registering what was happening. Part of him was feeling allured by the three breathtaking women, but another part sensed some kind of danger.

“You cannot?” They asked in unison, which made their sweet voices sound creepy. They took a step closer to him at the same time. Hector felt the hairs behind his neck raise, while chills traveled down his back. He instinctively took a step back and bumped against the table behind him.

“No, I cannot – I-I…”

“Why?” The triplets asked again in their strange synchronic manner.

“He cannot because he is with me!” Lenore suddenly came in between, grabbing Hector’s free arm possessively, before displaying her fangs and hissing at the three women. The triplets all froze, staring startled at the redhead.

“Sorry, Lady Lenore. With didn’t know he was yours.” The first triplet apologized humbly, all three making a polite courtesy before they took two steps back.

“That’s the worst lie I’ve ever heard.” Lenore accused and the three women exchanged awkward guilty expressions. Everybody in this castle and its surrounding villages knew by now, the human Forgemaster was Lenore’s newest lover.

“We weren’t going to hurt him.” The second triplet sheepishly told.

“I know perfectly well what you were going to do to him. Stay away from Hector, you freaking succubi.” Lenore said furiously and the three women kept their heads low, while unable to hide a malicious grin at the insult. “Come, Hector, we are leaving this party.” She firmly told. He took his glass of wine away from his hand, placed it on the table, and pulled him by the wrist. Lenore almost went crazy from fury, when she heard the triplets teasing whispers while she and Hector walked away.

_Cute_

_Sexy_

_Yummy_

“Are they really succubi?” Hector asked perturbed, the events unfolding too fast for his intoxicated mind to keep up.

“They could as well be. They have a nag for human boys like you. It has ended badly already a few times.”

“What happened?”

“They lost control and drunk too much blood during their crazy sex games.” Lenore explained while looking for Regina. She wanted to excuse herself from the party. Hector was so shocked with the revelation, he stumbled in his way, knocking painfully against a table. Only now was he beginning to understand the danger he could have fallen in, but he was mostly worried about the part of him that thought this all was rather disturbingly alluring. “For God’s sake, how much wine have you had?” Lenore asked after Hector groaned from the pain and quickly massaged his tight.

“I don’t know. I honestly lost count.” He guiltily said, and yet, there was a stupid teasing grin on his face.

“So did I, apparently. You had much more than only three glasses.” Lenore told while she shook her head. In other circumstances, she would have thought Hector looked funny, with his flushed cheeks, hazy eyes, and silly grin, but right now, she really wanted to get him out of this party. She looked around and finally found Regina in the crowd. The redhead guided Hector to sit on a chair. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Hector was glad to finally be seated. He closed his eyes and sensed the dizziness and weight on his head even more clearly. He was concentrating on his breathing, hoping to recover a bit from his lightheadedness when he heard a purring followed by a soft weight on his lap. He opened his eyes and smiled instantly.

“Dante! You’re back.” Hector happily cheered, and the cat meowed at him. Dante pressed his paws on Hector’s legs, massaging them. “Auw, claws!”

The human flinched a bit and tried carefully to remove the sharp nails from the pants’ material. Which seemed to make the cat even happier, because his purring and unpleasant massage increased. While the Forgemaster struggled delicately with the affectionate beast, his ears picked some words he immediately recognized as Turkish. Loosen words started attaching themselves into full sentences. It was not Hector’s habit to eavesdrop. Actually, he despised such behavior. But his alcoholic state of mind mixed with him wondering why they were whispering secretly in another language, not to mention, they were seating right next to him; led him to focus on his hearing and follow the conversation with curiosity. It didn’t take long to understand, he was the topic. Hector focused his attention so much, he stopped feeling the cat’s nails digging in his skin.

“ _How else do you think he would rise to such a status? The Council is restricted to everybody. Only they are allowed. A human would never be granted just like that, right?_ ” A female voice said.

“ _Yeah, Carmilla would never allow it. I bet she’d rather kill herself before she had a mortal in her Council. I bet Striga and Morana too_.” A male voice followed. Hector glanced sideways, curious, and managed a glimpse of the two vampires. He suspected they were a couple. He looked down at Dante, who meanwhile had nestled on his lap, and petted the happy animal, making sure the couple wouldn’t be suspicious he was listening to their conversation.

“ _I’m telling you. It’s Lenore. She’s the one who put him there. She always gets her way. It’s more than clear. He is her new toy. Look, he’s sitting right next to you... Discreetly you, fool!_ ”

“ _Don’t fret_. _He’s entertained with the cat. But yeah, very good looking. Definitely worked his way up through his cock._ ”

Hector’s eyes widened in shock and wondered if he had understood properly. It had been a while, since the last time he heard Turkish. He continued looking at Dante, his fingers doing pleasures behind the cat’s ears, feeling more than urgent the need to look inconspicuous.

“ _Right. I mean, if they only need him to forge these demons, or whatever they are, they could just keep him in the prison and force him to do his work, right? Instead, the man received a bunch of privileges that nobody else receives, no matter how smart, talented, or useful they may be_.”

“ _Apparently all that’s needed is a pretty face and a cock. Must be a really good fucker. Rather unfair, wouldn’t you agree?_ ”

“ _Absolutely. If he was at least a vampire, but still, a newcomer would never receive that many rights that quickly._ ”

Hector listened to the piece of gossip and didn’t know if he should feel outraged or should laugh at the ridiculousness of this couple’s conclusion. But then, he wondered. Was it that ridiculous? Was this why he had to recount over and over again his story about Dracula, and Brailla, and the deal Lenore made with him (in which, he, of course, omitted the rings and their marriage)? Were vampires telling around he was some kind of sex slave and his cock had been his ticket to the Council Room? How silly was that? He thought vampires were smarter than that. Oh, now the couple was gossiping about somebody else’s affair. The snoopers. The Forgemaster was wondering if vampires were somehow obsessed with sex. There had been that thing with the triplets first, now these guys. Or maybe it was a thing of parties. He had heard plenty of stories about crazy stuff happening at parties when enough alcohol had been consumed. He too had drunk quite some alcohol. Hector closed his eyes, his head spinning from his thoughts. His brains seemed to want to work at two speeds. From slow reasoning to fast thinking. He pondered to tell these people off but was not sure he was brave enough to confront them. Or how to articulate his disorganized thinking. He was in the middle of his dilemma when Lenore returned. She bent her head slightly to the side, wondering if he was sleeping.

“Hector?” She called and the man immediately opened his eyes and lifted them to look at her. She smiled and bent a bit over to pet Dante’s head with affection. “I see Dante found his way back to you. Let’s go home?” She asked in a kind inviting tone and Hector nodded, while he carefully stood up, searching for his balance while holding the cat against his chest. He had just taken two steps when he heard the Turkish woman make another derisive comment.

“ _Did you hear that? Home. He’s paying his end on the bargain tonight again.”_ The Turkish woman said while grinning maliciously and the man chuckled. Hector needed a bit extra time to process the meaning of the words and the feelings they induced. His earlier dilemma was quickly solved, and Hector turned suddenly around to walk a short piece back to where the couple sat.

“ _It’s rude talking behind others' backs in another language, even more, when the conversation’s topic is sitting right next to you!_ ” Hector bluntly said in a surprisingly articulate manner and in perfect Turkish. The pair stared shocked at him. Lenore turned also looking surprised. She called him, her eyes shifting from Hector to the vampires with some confusion. He automatically walked towards the redhead, but suddenly turned around again and retraced his steps back to the couple. “ _You seriously think four independent powerful women are simply giving out privileges because of a cock? I mean – really?”_

He looked at them for a short moment, and, since he received nothing more than widened eyes and mouths agape, he turned away. He intended to walk past Lenore and head to the door, but she stopped him, by grabbing onto his arm. Dante jumped to the floor, at the lack of grounding under his paws. Hector looked at the cat, which sat on the floor, and shamelessly started grooming his genitals in a contortionist position. He then lifted his eyes and noticed Lenore’s gaze was fixed on the very guilty-looking couple.

“He lived in Turkey.” The redhead explained and noticed the way both gulped and shifted uncomfortably on their seats.

“He did, did he?” The man rhetorically asked, looking nervous, his eyes shifting between Lenore and Hector. “Quite a multifaceted man, this human … pet of yours.” He added in a shaky tone. Hector snorted and Lenore’s eyes shrunk. She knew these two very well and the way he hesitated when he said pet, was enough to understand he was thinking in another word. And going by Hector’s behavior, she had quite an idea what the human had overheard. She smiled, a knowing malicious smile.

“Yes, Hector is a man with _many_ talents.” She emphasized the word many, leaving the suggestive meaning hanging in the air. She then turned to face the human and smiled. “And he is not my pet, he is my husband.”

She said with sweetness, her red orbs locked on aquamarine ones and Hector instantly smiled. She then turned towards the couple, lifting Hector’s and her left hand, displaying the identical rings. The couple gasped shocked, their embarrassment growing by the minute, just like the urge to spread the novelty already itching under their skins. “A good night to you two.”

At her final words, she turned around, already guiding Hector to follow her. The Forgemaster lingered just another extra second to read the shocked looks on the couple’s face, and grinned victoriously, before following his wife. Dante, the calico cat quickly ran behind his newest human.

…

The sound of amused giggling echoed through the dimmed lighted stoned walls, while Hector and Lenore clumsily made their way to the castle’s main open courtyard. The one they had gone to, the first time Hector was allowed to step outside his cell.

“Oh my God. The expression on their faces. Hilarious.” Hector said between his giggles, his hand pressed against his belly from continuously contracting his abdomen muscles from all the laughing.

“It’s so typical of them to think you gained favors through sex.” Lenore said in a chuckle, not sure what was making her laugh more, the absurdity of the couple’s theory, or Hector’s alcoholic induced giddiness. “Deep down, they are good people. Only, they explain everything through sex.”

The couple meanwhile reached the courtyard. It was a lovely night, just like the one they spent that first walk outside. Beautiful clear sky, adorned with sprinkled shinny stars, with a chilly breeze in the air.

“Shit, it's freezing out here!” Hector complained, while he automatically wrapped his arms around himself, protecting himself from the cold. He turned around, in an attempt to go back inside, but Lenore was faster than him, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him back to the yard. “Have mercy, Lenore! It’s fucking cold!” The woozy Forgemaster protested loudly, making Lenore chuckle. She dragged him across the patio while facing him with a playful smile. Her laughter was contagious, and husband and wife reached the balcony struggling to breathe between their giggling.

“I’ll warm you up.” Lenore whispered while she put her arms around his back, sliding them down to his pants’ back pockets.

“So that’s the function of those pockets!” Hector exclaimed like he had had a great revelation. “I had been wondering what the sense was in having them behind, but now I understand.” Lenore let out a burst of sincere loud laughter at Hector’s silly reasoning, loving how much fun he was while intoxicated.

“You’re such a fool when drunk.” She said in a chuckle and stood on the tip of her toes to meet his lips with a kiss. Hector wrapped his hands around her petite frame, his fingers playing with her long red locks, while their tongues worked unhurriedly. Lenore had not lied, when she told she would warm him up, because he could feel his body temperature already rise, the kiss sending butterflies to his stomach. He hummed delightedly before speaking between their kisses.

“Let’s make little vampires.” He proposed in a slurry breathless voice and Lenore threw her head back, while another laughter escaped through those tasty soft lips. Hector smiled at the sound, kissed her creamy exposed neck, before finding her lips again. Lenore was still giggling against his lips, so he was forced to break the kiss, her giggling being too contagious to hold his back.

“You are so drunk, you don’t even know half what you’re saying!” The redhead claimed and then let out a small yelp when he lifted her up, so he was carrying her, her legs supported on his hips. “Hector, seriously, we are not having sex here.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” He asked in a whisper against her ear, his hot breath sending pleasant chills against her cooled skin.

“My sweet boy. The state you are in. The triplets would have completely destroyed you.” She said while she cupped his face in her small hands and studied his adorable drunken expression.

“You can destroy me if you want to.” He said with the silliest grin and Lenore barked another loud laughter. She could not remember the last time she laughed this much, this hard. The last time she felt so at ease with somebody. Suddenly, Dante ran past them, hurriedly, groaning loudly, heading to the other side of the courtyard.

“That was weird…” Hector commented. Dante then emitted a loud yowl and Hector’s forehead wrinkled, as he recognized the distress sound.

“Hector?” Lenore called, when reading his expression shift so suddenly. Dante hissed and yowled again.

“Something is wrong.” Hector said while he gently dropped the redhead back on the ground.

He had just uttered those words when a sudden blasting sound filled the air with its thunder. Both human and vampire flinched and turned to the source of the sharp noise. They stared shocked when they saw the castle’s bell tower lean to the side and fall heavily, stones hitting the sides and damaging walls while they fell. Another deafening noise hit the air, when the tower hit the ground with a loud bang, disintegrating in the process. But the most shocking image was not the broken tower. It was the sight of a pair of strong black batlike wings rising behind the damaged building, its form rising at each flap until its full horrific black muscular body was visible. Hector’s heart accelerated along with his breathing, the shock bringing him out of his drunken state. More winged monsters followed, some with horns crowing their ears, all exhibiting their long sharp fangs, all bearing long deadly claws on their hands and paws. A cold chill traveled the Forgemaster’s body, while ice formed around his heart. The monsters were undeniably night creatures. Very strong, mighty night creatures. Hector’s gaze focused on the monsters’ eyes. They were glowing red. He breathed fast, fear and anger hitting at the same time at the bitter revelation.

“Isaac is alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It all breaks down to this moment!
> 
> This was another really long chapter! Perhaps the longest I wrote in this story up to now (hope it wasn't too long). 
> 
> This thing of wanting to handle all kinds of different topics, introducing new characters, interconnecting (back)stories and things that happened in previous chapters, etc in one chapter; is pretty hard and challenging. I mean, I need to bind everything in a logical way while keeping the story flowing fluidly.
> 
> In this chapter, I wanted to focus in the vulnerabilities of characters like Hector with his traumas that led to social anxiety; the way vampires also have to struggle into acceptance in their own society like Timothee for being unexperienced and Regina for her gender issue. It's not like, 'okay you are now a vampire' and they are, therefore, magically accepted into the vampire community. 
> 
> It was never really my intention to go into this line of thought when I started writting this story. It just happened naturally. I also only realized it very recently. This is becoming a theme of the story. Learning to accept the other, learning to accept yourself, the flaws and vulnerabilities and find the strenght within yourself to strive. And become a stronger person, more confident, kinder and more accepting.
> 
> Finally, it was my intention to show how a true friend can sometimes impact somebody's life, and help this somebody not only to get over difficult times, but also become an inspiration for others, like the relation between Regina and Lenore. I guess you all can see how this is mirrowing the relationship between Hector and Lenore. Which are going to face their greatest challenge yet.
> 
> I'm so sorry for the clifhanger. Well, actually I am not. It's kind of my thing and I know I'm pretty good doing it (or bad, «grins naughtily»). I will try to write the next chapter as soon as possible, though. 
> 
> Also, I did not resist the succubus reference, because Lenore's appearance and personallity is inspired in the Succubus demon from the game «Symphony of the Night». https://castlevania.fandom.com/wiki/Lenore#Trivia
> 
> Please leave your thought in the comment section :))


	19. Isaac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure this chapter is not what people quite expected, going on what I read on the comments section, but I'm sure you'll enjoy it.  
> It has been, since the beginning, my intention to dedicate a short Isaac-centric part in this story, to explain what Isaac had been up to during one month, why he didn't attack Styria earlier and also his motivations.
> 
> Was another challenging chapter, but I truly enjoyed writting it. 
> 
> Good Readings!!!
> 
> BETA: CallieParis

It was a clear night. A crescent moon barely illuminated a world made of shadows under a shiny starry ceiling. The air was chilly, the north wind blowing ice and snow in the mountains, where the early spring slept still under the white cover of winter. It was a world of serenity, of pleasant silence and contemplative beauty. But a sudden shift promised to break the peacefulness of this idyllic scenery. Tall, muscular, dark skinned monsters; creatures that inhabited brave soldiers’ nightmares; emerged from nothing into the nocturnal sky. Demons with glowing red eyes and long deadly shark fangs, crossed through a magical portal into the highlands of Styria. Leaded by their human master.

Isaac laughed. A joyful laugher with a hint of sadness. Old long forgotten pains resurfaced as a recent new heartache boiled itself up till it made the skin burn. It was a blinding white pain that had nothing physical about it, and yet, it hurt more than knife cutting flesh, more than a broken bone. Isaac laughed. A blithe laugher with a hint of madness. An indescribable thrilling sensation took hold of his being. Adrenaline ran wild in his body. They would pay. Humans. Vampires. Everybody would pay. For his loses, for his pains, for his suffering. He would not be someone else’s story. He would have his own story. And write it with blood.

…

_One month before_

Isaac stood in front of the tall transmission mirror. It shifted its image from Miranda sitting by a small bonfire in her abandoned village, back to a regular reflection. Isaac watched himself stare back, his face translating his inner dilemma. His heart’s rate increased. He had come here filled with expectation, carried by a confident determination. But now, he didn’t quite know anymore why he was here. The whole reason for him to travel to this ghost town and fight the mad wizard was this mirror. To find a shortcut to Styria. So, he could finally take his long-awaited revenge on Dracula’s betrayers. But after this maddening evening, after seeing all those humans controlled and used like puppets; after witnessing the consequences of the greedy untamed power of one wizard - he wasn’t so sure he desired revenge anymore.

_There are worse things than betrayal._

Miranda’s voice returned to his mind. The Isaac in the large transmission mirror looked back at him through his own eyes. Questioning. What was he going to do, after he had his blood? Would he be part of Dracula’s story or would he write his own story? Would he use his powers to cleanse the Earth from humanity’s corruption, and give the world a fresh start? Or would he teach humans to be kind and follow the ways of Love, Loyalty and Purity? Would he destroy or would he build? Did he want to be the governor of this ghost city, ruler by right of conquest? His prize for defeating the crazy old sorcerer. Isaac sighed tiredly.

“Mirror, show him.”

The mirror obeyed and the image shifted, showing him a landscape of high mountains covered under snow, a fairytale looking castle on the highest peak. The mirror took him to an open arch gallery, its glassless windows revealing the mountain rocks beneath a clear starry night. There he saw Hector, this time he was dressed and not curled up in a cell. A woman was pulling him by his wrist, her long wavy red locks a pleasant contrast of warm red against a cool and cobalt background. Suddenly, Hector stopped and ripped his hand away from the woman’s. She turned a bit while Hector took a few steps away from her.

“You tricked me and made me your slave!” Hector’s voice came out low, raw and cracked. Isaac’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. His fellow Forgemaster seemed to have a knack for getting himself into trouble, apparently particularly when it involved pretty women. The naïve fool.

“I did no such thing.” The woman told, or was it a girl? Isaac watched mystified while Hector stared down at his hand with a terrified bewildered look in his eyes. Wait. Was that a ring on his ring finger? Isaac didn’t recall ever seeing Hector wearing a ring before, just like he was sure the man was not married. Did the idiot agree to another deal he dind’t quite fully understand, again?

“You made me a slave.” Each word was breathlessly spoken by his fellow Forgemaster, each word translating what could only be despair. He brought his hands to his head and dropped to his knees. “My life is over.”

“Your life is saved, Hector.” The vampire girl said and brought her hands to the human’s face. She lifted his chin so he could look at her. Isaac thought the look in Hector’s eyes was the same as one of a scared child. The man had never properly grown up and was now facing a trial too challenging for him. Isaac wasn’t sure if he would be delighted with Hector’s misery or pity him for continuously ruining his own life with his foolish choices. “And I gave you what you always really needed. I made you into my pet.”

Isaac swiped the image away, having seen enough. The mirror’s pieces detached themselves and returned to the void, floating placidly in the air.

“Seems like the betrayer is already being punished.” The Forgemaster whispered to himself, wondering if Hector’s current situation was worse than death. “Seems you got your deserving fate, Hector. Perhaps one day, I’ll free you from your misery.” He said while he tiredly walked away and prepared to exit the tower.

…

The battle was over.

“Perhaps others will occupy this city one day.” Isaac spoke his thoughts out loud while he paced back to the tower’s entrance. “Or perhaps it will become a monument.” He sat on a step feeling the first signs of exhaustion reach him. The adrenaline in his blood travelled slower and slower in his veins. He yawned heavily while he half lied on a step. “Another hopeful idea that died in its sleep.”

He shifted a bit and repressed a painful groan. His hand pressed his right side, on the place a cold sword’s blade had pierced his flesh, during his fight against the wizard’s soldiers, in the tower. Isaac wasn’t bothered by the pain. He could deal with pain. He welcomed the pain. It made him think with more clarity. The pain cleansed his thoughts from distractions, from the body’s corruption and impurity. But the Forgemaster was aware of the dangers of an open unhealed wound. He turned a bit and strained to try a peep on the cut. He resisted a hiss when his fingers carefully drew back the skin to evaluate the wound. It was quite large and deep. He should stitch it. Isaac moved, to straighten a bit, his hand keeping the pressure on the cut. He sighed delightfully.

The battle was over.

He still could savor the aftertaste of victory. He still could not believe he won against the crazy old wizard. He still could not truly grasp the dimension of his achievement. This battle was beyond doubt, his greatest challenge ever. Not necessarily the confrontation between his night creatures versus the soulless humans; but his own personal battle against the wizard. That proved to be the real test. It wasn’t about who was the strongest physically or even magically. No. It was a battle of minds. Of spirits. Of wills.

From the moment Dracula pushed him through the mirror, Isaac had lost his balance. He had lost his compass in life and during an entire month, he had been searching and searching for something he wasn’t sure he was looking for. During four long weeks, Isaac had been trying to figure out, what he wanted from life. Trying to find back clarity. Trying to free his mind to focus. But he was angry. He could not find himself. He could not pray. He could not see God.

The battle was over.

He was no longer angry.

Isaac smiled. The always humble Sufi could not help but feel proud for today’s accomplishment. Even after he had stopped whipping himself, stopped reminding himself of humanity’s petty ways, stopped purging corruption from his soul thought his body; he still had the mental strength to save his mind from the wizard’s powerful magic. He was strong enough to save himself from a soulless existence. He saved the soulless humans from the evil old man’s curse and gave their bodies a new use. A second opportunity for a lost soul in Hell. It was a beautiful full circle, which Isaac thought was justice.

Blood dripped thick red between his fingers and Isaac knew, he had to stitch himself soon and stop the bleeding. He could already feel a bit lightheaded from the blood loss. Or was it from exhaustion? It had been a long trying month and an even longer and more trying night. Isaac stood up with some difficulty. He bit the generalized ache and growing fatigue. He walked back into the tower in search of a needle and a thread . He walked from chamber to chamber. Every room was heavy with its sorrowful awareness of its abandonment. Blackened fireplaces had stopped burning ages ago. Coper pans lay forgotten next to unused plates. Chairs and couches were not seated on for a long time. Even the floors weren’t used to the sound of heels stepping on them. The whole castle breathed dead. Cold, empty, silent. It felt like a tomb.

After searching unsuccessfully for his required sowing tools, Isaac found what must have been the main chamber, now a dusty old room covered under cobwebs. The chamber seemed to echo its own oblivion into the mists of memory and time. Abandoned objects whispered stories about their master’s life before he went mad. In the center, under a large stained painted window, stood what once had been a magnificent four-poster bed. Now, its vibrant red draperies were bleak and faded, the fabric torn and covered with holes. Next to it stood a chair. There lay forgotten, what once had been a rich coat, with golden dread patterns and precious stones embroidered on the sleeves. Now, it was shabby, filthy, and dusty. Isaac walked to a desk on the opposite side of the room. A few empty vials, one bowl. Three books about magic and spells. One open book. On it, lay a card shredded in two. The Forgemaster picked both pieces of paper and joined them to view its image. He recognized it as belonging to a set of Tarot cards. The Lovers. Feeling curious, Isaac read a fragment of the book’s open pages.

_«Our joy was ever endless new;_

_Our hearts were so even a pair_

_That neither was contrary, I swear_

_Ever to the other, despite all woe._

_For truly they suffered alike so_

_One bliss, and one sorrow both;_

_Equally glad and vexed both._

_All was one, no quarrelling there._

_And thus we lived full many a year_

_So well, I cannot tell you how.’_

_‘Sir,’ quoth I, ‘where is she now?’_

_‘Now?’ quoth he, and ceased at once._

_Therewith he seemed dead as stone,»_

The Forgemaster pressed his eyebrows feeling mystified. He looked to his left and saw what once had been a fine vanity table. He approached it and saw his fragmented reflection on the mirror’s broken glass. He looked down. A lonely vase holding dead dried flowers. The Forgemaster brushed some of the broken glass lying on the wood and found a ring. He picked it carefully. Golden, delicately ornamented with jade flowered petals. No doubt it once belonged to a lady. Could it be the magician had gone mad because of a woman? Isaac’s eyes fell on a small box. He opened it and smiled. It was a sowing kit. He found his needle and thread.

…

Isaac had forgotten the last time he slept this much. This long and this heavily. During his sleep, he dreamt endlessly, but the moment he would open his eyes, the images and memories faded in the fog of forgottenness. The days passed quickly by, like a blur of movements too rapid for the eye to register. There were many corpses. There was a lot of work to be done. The more the Devil’s Forgemaster forged, the less he remembered why he did it. The battle was over. He wasn’t in the mood for revenge. He was too tired to be anybody’s’ story, even if he was its protagonist.

For three days, Isaac slept, ate, and forged. Sometimes he would wander in the empty streets of the dead city. Sometimes he sought solace in a solitary house or courtyard to empty his mind from thoughts. Sometimes he sought the company of his night creatures and listened to them, refilling his mind with thoughts. Three days. And then the fever came.

Isaac woke up feeling sick. He hadn’t felt like this for a very long time. It was a kind of sickness that consumed his body and drank its vitality. When he moved to sit up, a sting hit his right side, under his abdomen. Hissing softly, he lifted his tunic’s fabric to see the self-stitched cut. An expression of dismay and disconsolation reached his face. The skin was glowing red around the stiches. The flesh under it was swollen and aching. He dropped the fabric, so it covered the cut again, and brought his hand to his forehead. His skin felt hot. Fingers travelled to his neck and chest. His skin was burning with fever. Chills ran down his body and his legs felt weak. Still, Isaac bit the sickness away. He needed a doctor. Despite the stitching, his wound was not healing and instead, he was gaining a bad infection. The Forgemaster looked around and called a horse-looking night creature.

“You. Take me to the closest village.”

…

Evening was falling when Isaac, feeling dizzy and feverish, spotted a town from atop a hill. It was built next to a river, which fed cultivations built along its long and broad caudal. The town was surrounded by a dense forest of dark trees and the houses were protected by a circular wall made of stones. The Forgemaster could see stone and wooden houses with dark roofs against a rosy sky. White smoke came out the chimneys and dissolved like thin fog into the air. Church bells called the town’s inhabitants back home, announcing the end of another hard day’s work. The Forgemaster calculated it would be already dark by the time he reached the town and hoped a physician would accept a late patient. The demon horse started its downhill’s descent, diligently following the dirt path, the only way leading to the town.

They reached the edge of the forest and Isaac commanded his beastie to halt. The Forgemaster pressed his eyebrows and blinked a few times. He wasn’t sure if his senses were working properly, he wasn’t sure how far the fever was affecting his mind; but an odd uncanny sensation invaded Isaac’s heart. He ignored this strange sensation, telling himself it was his sickness playing tricks to his mind, while his intuition told him there was something off about these woods that made the hairs in the back of his neck lift. He commanded the demon horse to continue and the beastie trotted quietly into the forest.

While they followed the path, Isaac looked around. The first thing that struck him as odd was the silence. Apart from the softened sound of hooves stepping the dirt, there was nothing else to be heard. No singing of birds, no calling noises of forest creatures. Not even the sound of wind rustling between leaves or grass. It was a world of complete silence. Of peace. It had a wonderful soothing effect on the Devil Forgemaster’s mind. It was like a blanked of calmness covered all his tumultuous thoughts, uncertainties, indecisions. It was like a haze of mellow coolness wiped hurtful memories from the past and eased old pains into vagueness. Isaac breathed in, relaxed and savored the scent of wood, of pine, of wet ground. He looked around, feeling completely at ease, so relaxed and comfortable, it was as if his fever had disappeared and his wound was healed. He lifted the fabric just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. The skin was still glowing red, swollen and infected. Isaac stared at it confused, because he was not registering the pain he knew he should feel. But the sight of the awful state of his cut triggered his mind and suddenly brough him back to reality. The pain and sickness returned with full force. So sudden and so strong, Isaac almost fainted from shock. His fingers grasped tightly on the night creature’s long hair and prevented from slipping down and fall.

The Devil’s Forgemaster exhaled heavily. He breathed in the pleasant forest perfume invading his nostrils, and closed his eyes. He focused on the pain. The pain that brought him back to reality, the pain that brought clarity to his mind. Isaac opened his eyes and lifted them. The sky above became increasingly darker, the rosy tones turning purple; the first stars painting a dark ceiling. Isaac looked around and scanned his surroundings. It was impossible not to be entranced by the beauty of the large leafy branches, their leaves reflecting the sky’s warm colors. He could see the trees were centuries old. He could sense the mysterious aura of ancient wisdom emanating from the trunks and roots. And understood. This was an enchanted forest of serenity and agelessness.

Isaac grinned, understanding the danger of the pleasant and welcome quietness that invaded his heart. It was the ancient magic of the trees inviting a careless mortal to give up all their goals, step away from the path and lay on the grass of a clearing. There, the unsuspicious mortal would lose track of time, would lose track of themselves and fall asleep in a deadly sleep. The forest would slowly consume the human alive, and they would never fight back, because the pleasure of peace was a mightier trap than any weapon. Isaac grinned. He had read stories about this kind of magical forests and welcomed, therefore, the constant bite of his infected wound at each soft balance produced by his horse. Because the pain made him focus and reminded him of his goal. The need of a doctor. So, the disciplined Muslim crossed the magical woods for what felt an idyllic eternity, until he spotted the end of the path, leading its way out of the enchanted forest.

Suddenly, and for the first time since he penetrated this world of trees, he heard a whooshing sound. He quickly turned his head to his right, while his hand was already grasping his trustful dagger. He shrunk his eyes and focused to see in the darkness. His heartbeat accelerated a bit, for his senses told him somebody, or something, was staring right back at him. He was about to order his demon horse to move a bit closer into the woods when another rustling sound was heard, this time coming from the exit’s direction. The Forgemaster saw the figure of a human enter the woods. The person held a kerosene lantern, and the dim light was enough to make out the figure of a man, dressed in a black priest outfit. His left hand was carrying a basket covered with a cloth. The priest did not see the Forgemaster and his mount. The priest, unaware of his observer, left the path and ventured into the darkness of the woods.

Isaac’s eyes lingered on the spot he had last seen the man for a while. The forest was once again filled with silence. The Forgemaster wondered what a priest would do in a forest during nightfall. It was an enchanted forest, for God’s sake! But he decided he had nothing to do with it and did not really care. He had his own matters to attend and his health was right now his priority. So, the Devil’s Forgemaster proceeded his journey, and, without any incidents, reached the forest’s edge and stepped out of it. Isaac commanded the horse to halt. He turned to look back. His eyes met a background of impressive tall sturdy trees. He turned again to look straight ahead. There was the town. He calculated it would be about a ten minutes’ walk to reach it.

“Stay hidden in the woods till I return. I am afraid, if I go to the town riding you, we will be prevented from entering it and banished from this region forever.” Isaac told after he dismounted the demon horse. “And I really need medicine.”

The night creature emitted a soft grunt, before obediently going back to the ancient woods. Isaac reluctantly walked towards the town. The Forgemaster was the least excited with the prospect of having to interact with his fellow humans. Now that he left the magical woods, he felt sicker. He was lightheaded, weak and plagued with cold chills. The infection was working itself dangerously in his body. He grinned bitterly, thinking how ironic it would be, if he would die from the effects of an unattended wound, after overcoming such an epic battle. A story that would die with his death, remaining unknown for mankind, forgotten forever. Within these thoughts, the ostracized Forgemaster reached the town’s main entrance, which was guarded by two soldiers.

“Hield! Who approaches?” A guard quickly called, while he pointed his sword at the stranger in the dark. Isaac came a bit closer, so the light illuminating the entrance would reveal his face.

“I seek no trouble. My name is Isaac and I seek a doctor.” He spoke while he raised his arms in a peace sign. The guard gave him a wary look but lowered his sword.

“He allowed him to get here.” The guard whispered to his college, but his words reached Isaac’s ears, nevertheless. The Forgemaster pressed his eyebrows mystified but questioned not. Instead he decided to elaborate.

“I am in need of medical assistance. I was…attacked on the road a few days ago.” Isaac explained and carefully lifted the fabric covering the cut. Both guards came closer to examine the wound. Now that both men were closer, Isaac could see the first guard was a young man, still a boy, somewhere between 18 and 20 years old, while the second guard was in the beginning of his thirties.

“Looks pretty bad.” The first guard said.

“Get Andreas. He can guide him to the physician.” The older guard told. The younger soldier nodded and promptly ran off into the streets, quickly disappearing in the dark.

Isaac was surprised by the quick assistance. Not only that, but mostly by the spontaneous care that followed. There was no further questioning, there were no signs of suspicion. Instead, he was offered help by the remaining guard to sit down. The man kindly gave him some water. He gave a reassuring smile when Isaac eyed him warily, while he held the leather canteen. The Forgemaster had seen genuine concern in both men’s eyes when he had shown his cut and was perplexed by this spontaneous behavior towards a perfect stranger.

In just a few minutes, the young soldier was back, accompanied by a child around 12. Without any ceremonies, the boy grabbed Isaac’s wrist and guided him into the town, while both guards wished him a good recovery. Still confused by the unexpected kindness of his fellow humans, Isaac followed the child diligently. They reached a large square and the Andreas walked confidently to one of the houses. He knocked on the door and an elder man opened it.

“What?” The man questioned in a rough unpleasant tone after eying the child and the Forgemaster.

“He needs medicine, sir.” Andreas told and the man grunted annoyed while studying Isaac from up to down.

“I’m not having a Saracen in my house.” The doctor answered in a displeased tone and Isaac was immediately washed over with the familiar feeling of bitter disappointment. The memory of the kindness and generosity he had just experienced was easily overshadowed by this man’s hostility.

“I am not a Saracen. I am…” Isaac began, but the old man rudely intercepted him.

“Are you an infidel or not?” He unkindly asked.

“I follow the path of God, unlike you, unkind doctor, who are unwilling to help a sick fellow human.” The physician looked truly offended and taken aback by the Forgemaster’s words.

“Father Everard said…” The child started, and again, the man interrupted impolitely.

“I know what Father Everard said.” The man told in a complaining manner, mumbling something illegible afterwards. Both Isaac and Andreas gave the old man an annoyed look. “Do you have money on you?” He asked eying the African with displease.

“I have.”

“Come in. And hurry up. I don’t have all night.” The old man told in his never-ending upset tone, gesturing for Isaac to enter. He followed the man but turned to look at the boy before he crossed the threshold. Andreas whispered him a _good luck_ before he ran off. “Come into the light.” The old man ordered, while he entered a dim illuminated room. Isaac obeyed and glanced around. This was surely the practice room, having a central long wooden table covered with books, bowls, vials, a mortar and pestle, dried herbs. The Forgemaster watched the elder put some spectacles on his nose while he mumbled something about how disgraceful it was to invite a Saracen into his home. “Tell me stranger, what ills you?” He asked while he studied Isaac’s face. The Forgemaster lifted the fabric to show the cut. The old man bended over to look better, brough his fingers to the skin and pressed a bit on it. Isaac swallowed a hiss of pain. “Who sewed this cut?”

“I did. I was alone and had nobody to assist me.” The old man hummed at the response. He paced to a bucket with water and immersed a cloth on it. He proceeded in cleaning the infected skin carefully, while analyzing the stitches.

“Did you clean the wound with water and burned the point of the needle before stitching it?”

“Yes.”

“Then the blade that cut you had rust on it. I assume it was a blade that made this wound, right?”

“Yes.” The old physician nodded and walked to a shelve. His fingers moved while he mumbled something low, looking for a specific bottle. After finding what he wanted he walked to another shelve, rumbled a bit between objects and returned with a bottle and bandages.

“Undress yourself. The doctor instructed while he poured some of the liquid on a clean cloth. Once Isaac was bare chested, the elder placed the wet fabric on top of the infected area and then bandaged the Forgemaster’s waist till the cloth was safely secured between his skin and the bandage. “This is Bald's eyesalve remedy. Repeat this process three times a day, make sure you always use a clean cloth and bandage. The fever should be gone by tomorrow morning, and the swelling should have receded too. But, if you see no improvements or feel worse, you must come to me. Understood, Saracen?”

“Yes.” The Devil’s Forgemaster said, choosing to ignore the insult. He had to admit, he had the feeling the old man knew what he was talking about. “How much do I own you?”

“Three ducats.” The old man said without any hesitance and Isaac eyed him warily, finding the price rather high. The doctor understood the look.

“It takes nine days to make this remedy and both the cloth and bandages are made of fine cotton. Not to mention, I attended you after my working hours.”

“A doctor and a business man.” Isaac quipped while he handed the money. The old man smiled for the first time.

“I’m a doctor. Not a charitable trust.” The elder told while he walked in the exit door’s direction. He opened it.

“Thank you.” Isaac told before he left the physician’s house.

An illegible mumbling and a door shut behind him was all he received. The Forgemaster shook his head. Hopefully, the remedy would work better charms on him than the doctor’s attitude. A cold wind swept, and Isaac wrapped his arms around himself. The persistent fever was sucking all his energy and he felt exhausted. He looked around. The streets were empty, the odor of freshly cooked meals rose in the air. Ignoring his bodily demands, the Devil’s Forgemaster wandered a bit through streets and alleys until he eventually reached the church. Normally, he would walk by and give no interest in the building, but tonight, Isaac was not feeling quite himself. He rested his hand on the door, gave a gentle nudge and it opened. He stepped in. There was a pleasant scent of burned wax and incense, a warm serenity in the empty dim illuminated interior. Isaac walked down the aisle, his eyes resting on the dead Jesus image, hanging on a cross. He walked closer so he could study the image’s face. The artist had skillfully captured the thankful expression of peace after long hours of suffering agony. There was something beautiful on Jesus’s expression of exhaustion and relief, of sorrow and gratitude. There was something beautiful on the too thin, too long limbs and torso, covered on cuts and blood. His naked body was exposed in its full fragility. An ode to Christ’s dignity, endurance and loyalty towards God. His sacrifice towards mankind.

“Was it worth? Dying for Humanity, when it is ugly in its corruption?” Isaac asked the image, knowing he would not receive an answer. The reason he flinched, honestly startled, when a voice rose in the church empty’s space.

“Is it not? When there is laughter in joy, love in a smile, generosity in a gesture? Is it not worth, when there is even the tiniest sparkle of light amongst the dark void of corruption?”

Isaac turned quickly around and found the source of the voice. Standing behind him was no other, but the priest he had seen entering the enchanted forest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what are your thoughts about this first part of Isaac's arc?
> 
> I put several small hints of things that either have parallels with certain aspects of the past and present in this story, of elements that will reflect in future chapters about Isaac's and the general story itself. Perhaps you have figured out some of them, or at least, a central theme.
> 
> All in all, I wanted to create a more contemplative chapter, the reason of the slow pace in this chapter. Wanted to create some kind of aura that matches Isaac and his philosophic ways. 
> 
> ...
> 
> The poem Isaac reads in the wizard's main bedroom is a piece of «The Book of the Duchess» from George Chaucer - https://www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/English/Duchess.php
> 
> Saracen (Wikipedia) By the 12th century, Saracen had become synonymous with Muslim in Medieval Latin literature. Its connotation was negative, associated with opponents of Christianity. Also by the 12th century, Medieval Europeans used the term Saracen as both an ethnic and religious marker. In some Medieval literature, Saracens were equated with Muslims in general and described as dark-skinned, while Christians lighter-skinned.
> 
> Bald's eyesalve remedy was a medieval medicin used for infections and other sicknesses. It combined equal parts of garlic, cropleac, wine and bile from a cow's stomach. The alliums were ground and all ingredients placed in a brass container for nine days before being clarified through a cloth.


	20. Father Everard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed so very much writting this chapter!
> 
> An early Christmas present for you all, kind readers!
> 
> BETA: CallieParis

Isaac eyed the priest dazzled. The other man smiled friendly. He closed the door behind him, the wood screeching softly, until a clank echoed in the ample house of God. The priest then proceeded to walk quietly in the Forgemaster’s direction, his smile never wavering, his eyes glinting warmly under dozens of candle lights.

“I apologize if I startled you.” The priest spoke and Isaac released an involuntary sigh. He turned fully around to stand opposite to the man approaching him and noticed his boots were stained with dirt.

“I saw you in the woods, earlier today.” Isaac stated naturally, a simple account of a fact.

“You did?” The priest replied with a fond smile. He halted when he was mere feet away from the Sufi. “You must be the stranger in seek of a doctor. Has our kind physician assisted you?” The man asked, his speech flowing easily, ignoring the forest subject like if it was already concluded before it even started. Isaac lifted an eyebrow a bit mystified. He decided to follow the priest’s subject of choice. After all, he was in his church.

“The physician has nothing of kind. But yes, he tended to my wound.” Isaac spoke with a grin and the priest chuckled.

“Old Federico has his grumpy ways, but deep down, he is a good man.” The priest told amused.

“What makes you think he is a good man?” The Forgemaster questioned in an almost challenging tone.

“He mended you, didn’t he?”

“Yes. For a lavish price.” Isaac told and the priest let out a small, amused bark of laughter.

“Typical Federico. But still, he could have refused to treat you for all the gold of the world. The fact he was willing to tend a stranger and foreigner, even for a high price, means he chose to do the right thing. There is light in him, even if it looks dim.”

“You are an optimistic.” Isaac told with a smirk while he shook his head, expressing his incredibility.

“So I have been told.” The priest replied in his never-ending lighthearted manner. “I am Father Everard, a humble shepherd of Men here in Tortona. My heart warms with your presence in the House of God.”

“I am Isaac and I’m a Sufi. Won’t God be offended with my presence here?”

“God loves all His children. His House is a sanctuary, a safe haven to any person, independently of their age, gender, skin-color and faith. Because in the end, we all believe in good and good is God.” Father Everard spoke in a pleasant warm voice, a hint of musicality in each syllabus.

“Perhaps then, God will be offended with my profession.” Isaac told with an edge of bitterness, suddenly having a strange urge in testing this priest’s kindness and tolerance. He wanted to confirm to what extent the man’s words were truthful and where the line was drawn between his love for people and a soul’s condemnation.

“And what may your trade be, Isaac, that is so grim to the point offending God?” The priest asked and Isaac hesitated for a moment. His heart was already drawn by the welcoming kindness of this holy man and yearned for his love and care. But his memories of a lifetime of ostracism, rejection and shunning told him this man was as bad as every other human. He hesitated and inhaled to mellow his restless heart, which was already prepared to receive an emotional blow.

“I am a Devil’s Forgemaster.”

His soft, quiet, deep voice floated the ample empty space of the church. The faces of saints with eyes directed to the Heavens seemed to tremble under the dancing candle lights. Isaac bore his eyes on Father Everard, waiting for the moment the middle-aged man’s features would harden in scorn and fury. A flash crossed the man’s eyes, but not of ire or despise. Instead, there was something of an old sorrow, of a conformed pain. He smiled with his lips, kind and warm, but his eyes were compassionate and understanding. Isaac felt his heart flutter in confusion. An old hope filled it up. The same hope he had once held as a child, that somebody would accept him and love him for who he was.

“Will you grace me with your company for diner, Isaac, the Forgemaster?” Father Everard invited in a welcoming way and Isaac’s eyes grew in shock. His heart was by now racing insanely, his mind was perplexed. There was no scorn or condemnation. Instead, he received a friendly genuine invitation.

“You would dine with me? A person who wields the Devil's unholy magic to hurt and kill others?”

“I would dine with any person sent to me by God.” The priest spoke calmly.

“You think God send me to you?” There was mockery in Isaac’s tone, vocalizing his incredibility. The priest’s smile reached his brown eyes, which became warmer with love.

“You are here, in the House of God, are you not?”

After these words, Father Everard walked pass Isaac towards the altar’s direction. He bowed in reverence to Christ’s image before turning to his left. He paced unhurriedly to a door in a corner. He halted in front of it and turned to look at Isaac. Patient, silent, hands neatly joined before him. Just waiting. Giving the stranger his needed time to decide whether to follow him or not.

The Sufi Forgemaster stood unmoved on the same spot. He had turned to watch the odd priest’s movements. His brow was wrinkled while a dilemma surged in his mind. He could prove Father Everard he was wrong about God, reject his diner invitation and leave the church. But something compelled him to stay. Perhaps it was the peacefulness this man emanated. He had the same harmonious serenity the church irradiated. Perhaps it was merely the wish to quiet his hungered stomach that made him follow the priest. Perhaps it was the longing for human company, somebody to talk with, to share time and memories with. Socialization was, after all, a fundamental human trait. With an inviting smile, Father Everard opened the door that led to a narrow corridor and Isaac walked thought it.

…

There was a contemplative silence in the kitchen. Both men were quiet. Isaac seated on a wooden bench by the dining table, the priest by the fireplace, stirring the soup in a small cauldron. There was bread on the table and two glasses. One with water for Isaac, one with wine for Father Everard. The Forgemaster observed the other man, his movements relaxed and confident, and welcomed the serenity he emanated. Isaac lifted both his hands to receive a bowl with steaming soup and waited for the priest to sit down with his own portion before eating.

“Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen." Father Everard paid grace, his eyes closed, his hands folded in a sign of respect. He opened his eyes and lifted them to look at Isaac.

“Bismillahi wa 'ala baraka-tillah" The Sufi spoke in Arabic, before he took a spoon to his mouth. The priest smiled in wonder. “In the name of God and with God's blessing." The Forgemaster translated and Father Everard smiled contented, repeating the words before he too took a spoonful of soup. They ate for a while, both in silence, but Isaac now and then lifted his eyes to look at the priest, still trying to understand the motives behind his sympathy and generosity. Because the soup was warm and tasty, making his stomach happy and full. After a long moment of idyllic peace, Father Everard decided to speak.

“You are wondering why a priest invites a man of your profession to his kitchen and offers him bread and soup.”

“I am.”

“Would you believe me, if I answered you, it was because you looked hungry?” The priest asked in a playful manner and Isaac chuckled.

“I would not.”

“No, you would not.” The priest agreed and paused with a pensive look. “I’ve heard dreadful stories about monster-demons attacking and destroying cities in Wallachia, under the rule of Dracula.”

“The stories are true. I was one of the two human Forgemasters in Dracula’s War Council. We made him night creatures and we advised him in the war against Mankind.”

“What was the plan?”

“To kill all humans from the face of the Earth.”

“Why?”

“Because, a holy man, like you sir; the Bishop of Targoviste, killed Dracula’s wife, a human doctor and scientist unjustly accused of witchcraft.” Isaac told in repressed revolt and was surprised to witness a wave of tired sadness grow in the man’s eyes.

“Alas, it is very unfortunate some men of the clergy misuse their authority to hurt others. They use the name of God to commit atrocious crimes and to satisfy their uncontrolled ambitions.” Father Everard spoke mournfully.

“There is a lot of evil among humans. All my life I have experienced the petty cruelties of man.” Isaac told, various unpleasant recollections resurfacing to his mind. “I believed in Dracula’s plan. Humans are unworthy of living in this world. We were to destroy this old, corrupted world and create a new one, a world of purity and of love. But, the other Forgemaster and one of Dracula’s Generals betrayed him. Now, Dracula is dead.”

A pause. A dead silence between the two men, only broken by the sipping sound of Father Everard drinking a little bit more wine than he should.

“Will you continue his war against Mankind?” Father Everard asked and Isaac had a dejá vu. The Captain’s words returning to his mind, asking the same question. The Forgemaster wavered. He was uncertain of what he wanted.

“I – I do not know.” The Forgemaster admitted. “I once wanted revenge on Dracula’s betrayers. I once wanted a world without humans. I once wanted to be God’s instrument and purify the Earth from corruption by giving Him soldiers from Hell, so their condemned souls would have a life of penance on Earth. But now…Now I do not know what I want.”

“What are, for you, the most important principles in life?” Father Everard asked him and again, Isaac was surprised with the man’s open-mindedness, the lack of despise, of condemnation, of judgement. He contemplated the man’s question for a moment.

“Loyalty. Purity. Love.”

“Those are incredibly high moral values for a Devil’s Forgemaster.” The priest told wittily, and Isaac chuckled. “It seems your actions and way of life are evil of character, but your heart is in the right place. You seem to be a good man, with genuine good intentions. Tell me, Isaac, do you really believe it is possible to reach Good by doing Evil? Do you think it’s possible to create a world of love on the ruins of cruel genocide? Wouldn’t it make more sense for love to be achieved by building more love.”

“That is the typical way of thinking for a priest living in a serene town, far from witnessing the atrocities men are capable of.” Isaac replied bitterly. Father Everard smiled knowingly, his expression of a conformed remorse and pain.

“Oh, but I have witnessed men’s most horrendous atrocities. I’ve witnessed wars, murders, destructions of entire cities. I’ve seen the face of evil, and it is a very ugly thing.” The priest whispered, his voice for the first time holding a raspy tone of resentment. He brought his glass of wine to his lips and Isaac noticed his hand was shaking slightly. He placed the glass on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. And sighed. “I was not always a priest, Isaac.” The Sufi hanged on each syllable the man was uttering, his eyes wide, his breath caught in his throat. “I was, many years ago, a mercenary.”

…

Shadows danced against a naked stone wall, the sound of cracking wood warming the small kitchen. Father Everard refilled Isaac’s glass of water. He refilled his glass of wine too. The Forgemaster’s mahogany orbs observed the holy man sitting opposite to him. He understood now, why the man hadn’t been affronted by his profession, why he remained so tolerant. He understood Father Everard had a haunted past and wondered what made a mercenary become a priest.

“My father was of noble origin, my mother not. I was born a bastard. My mother had a safe and comfortable life, blessed with pretty luxuries unusual for the common folk. I received the same military training and education as my half siblings and was a prodigy in sword fighting. We were envied by my father’s wife and her children, because he loved my mother and not his wife, he favored me instead of his rightful heirs. So, the day my father (may his soul rest in peace) passed away, my mother and I were forced to leave the castle, the county, and live the life of harsh poverty they thought suited us. My mother died of illness the following year. I was decided not to share her fate.”

The priest told, his tone holding an ancient repressed pain. “I was eighteen when I left England in search of wars and battles, anyplace where a soldier was needed. I travelled to Spain and participated in the Battle of Olmedo, a conflict between the Castilian forces and those of Navarre and Aragon. The politics meant nothing to me. All I cared was that I was well paid.

I quickly became successful in my ambitions. I was a well-known solitary mercenary, a hired assassin with no allegiance to any lord, country, or religion. I was recruited to fight in European and Middle Eastern kingdoms and held great pride and pleasure in my profession. Today, I do not recognize the man from my past. I had a sickening thirst for violence, for blood spilling, for screams of torture and pain, for the burning and pillaging of villages and cities, for the cries of misery and panic. The more battles I fought, the more men I killed, the more gold I collected, the more women pleasured me; the more I wanted it all. I was never satiated.

I was a soulless, destructive monster. Mad from pain. Consumed by everlasting burning fire of rage. I hated everybody. I blamed the world for what I lost, for what I was denied. I held so much rancor in me, I self-victimized so much, that the rest of mankind had to pay and suffer for my sufferings. I was no better than your Dracula after his wife died.”

The priest casted his eyes down, the weight of regret from his sinful past pressing down his shoulders heavily. Guilt consumed him with the memories of the countless lives he took.

A heavy sigh. A pause. A contemplation.

“Everything changed on July the 17th of the Lord’s year 1453. A battle at Castillon on the Dordogne River. Another stupid conflict in this endless war between England and France. The British army was easily outnumbered. 6,000 men against an army of 10,000 soldiers. Still, the English ran into a storm of arrows and artillery fire. It was a chaos of man slaughter. It was a massacre. Thousands were killed, the thousands that didn’t, were taken prisoner.

I lived almost a decade fighting nonsense wars. Disputes between power hungry lords, conflicts between rival kingdoms, sometimes even between brothers. I spent eight years killing soldiers mercilessly, spilling blood and guts of innocent villagers without remorse. Countless times I witnessed the light of life leave scared eyes, listened to the roars of battle, the cries of pain, the last breath in a gasp choked on blood. I was an insane man that had found mad content in bloodshed.

It all changed at Castillon. It happened during the heat of the battle. I suddenly became aware of my surroundings. Just like that, for no real reason, I started viewing things in a manner I never had before. It was like a veil had been lifted from my eyes and I was viewing the world with clarity for the very first time. And then, I saw it. The evil of war on the faces of too young soldiers. Their eyes angered, their faces contorted by rage and madness; young men possessed by fear and the will for survival. Too young men behaving like bloodlust predators, stabbing mindlessly to kill so they would not to be killed.

Suddenly the noises of metal clashing, of horses whining, of men screaming, of bones breaking, of guts spilling; became overwhelming. During the heat of the Battle at the Dordogne River, I witnessed the raw violence and vileness of war with unprecedent clarity. I saw my soul reflected in each soldier’s face while killing a stranger. I was so shocked; I left the battlefield and ran away. And so, without any reason, the solitary mercenary became a deserter.”

Father Everard gulped the last bit of wine from his glass and stared for a moment at the bottle, his eyes pensive, his look longing, like if deciding to pour more wine in his glass was life determining. He opted not to refill.

“An order of capture was sent to arrest me for treason. It was my intention to go to Florence, where I was sure I could find protection under a former patron. But the bounty was high, and I was caught up by another solitary mercenary.” The priest chuckled before he continued with a crooked smiled. “Ironic, wouldn’t you say so?” He paused, his eyes staring at an empty point to Isaac’s left side. His memories became sharper, as their returned to that decisive day. “I killed him. The last man I’ve ever killed since then. But he wounded me severely. The last thing I remember afterwards, was mounting the horse and hoping I would find a village. I lost a lot of blood, all my strength, and quickly drifted away. The horse trotted by his own accord and chose his own path. When I returned to my senses, I was in the forest, here, surrounding Tortona.”

Father Everard bended a bit over the table, like he was about to share an important secret that had to be whispered, so even the walls around them wouldn’t hear the words. “That’s when I met him.”

“Who?” Isaac asked, he took bending over the table, thirsty to receive this secret, for he was completely enthralled by the man’s tale. The priest held a moment of silence, stretching the expectation.

“The Spirit of the Woods.”

Silence. Wood cracking in the burning fire. Yellow light danced on the walls teasingly. It danced on both men’s faces, creating mysterious and uncanny expressions.

“A what?” Isaac asked, unsure he had listened properly. He had heard stories about old spirits living in woodlands, in rivers, even in deserts. But those were simply fairytales. Stories to tell children at night. His skepticism colored his voice with wariness. Father Everard chuckled amused and poured himself the last bit of wine.

“He is ancient. Very ancient. Older than the forest’s oldest trees. Older than time itself. The Spirit of the Woods can come in various shapes, you know?” The priest told, ignoring the other’s incredulity. He sat up straight again. Isaac mirrored his movement, one eyebrow arched. “There have been accounts of people seeing him as a white hind, a white fox, a white rabbit. Others have seen him in the form of a human. As an old man, as a young man. To me, he appears as a child around seven. I still visit him in a regular basis, like today.”

“Why does this – ehm, spirit take these forms?” Isaac questioned. Despite his disbelief, he was curious. After all, he did sense the forest’s magic. He did feel like he was being watched.

“The Spirit of the Woods can see through people’s souls. If he’s willing to make his presence known, he will appear in the form of an animal. If he wishes to engage in a conversation, he will take a human form. I guess I see him as a small child, because I miss the innocence and carefreeness of that age.” He gladly explained. His lips drew a wider smile. “It is funny, to listen to a child discussing wise lessons, philosophy and morality.”

“Fascinating.” Isaac told unimpressed. “I assume he healed your wounds, the first time you ran into him.” The Forgemaster pressed, convinced this whole story was made up. He thought it extremely convenient his horse took him to this magical forest, while he was unconscious and bleeding to death. But he wondered how well structured this priest’s story would continue being. And wondered, was Father Everard a liar or did he believe in this fantasy created by his mind?

“He did, with the help of the forest’s magic.” The holy man told and Isaac snorted. “You sensed the magic when you crossed the forest today, didn’t you? Tried to make you fall asleep?” Father Everard pointed out with a knowing smile and Isaac barely concealed his surprise behind his stoic façade. The priest didn’t wait for an answer. “He does that when one is injured. His compassion is boundless. He also senses the troubles of one’s heart. He has his own particular way of dealing with humans. One can easily loose themself in the woods. The spirit makes them sleepy, makes them forget where they were heading to. He takes them to a dream state where time, as we understand it, ceases from existing. Days and nights become a blur, a dizzying game of shadows and lights.”

“How long did you stay there? When he healed your wounds?”

“It felt like about a month, but turns out, a bit less than a year had flown by.” The priest told while he shook his head, like he could not believe his own memory. “He healed much more than my wounds. He helped me find myself back. I buried my sword in the forest’s ground and disposed of my soldier’s armor. I vowed never to kill a human being again. Afterwards, the Spirit of the Woods guided me to Tortona.

I was a new man, but I still didn’t know what my destiny was. I roamed the town and, just like you, my friend Forgemaster, I entered this church. I found God and I heard his calling. I confessed all my sins to the priest; he gave me the blessing of forgiveness, and with it, love. And guided me into priesthood. When he died and his soul was lifted to Heaven by the angels, fourteen years ago, I became Tortona’s new priest.”

“So… you are going to guide me into priesthood too?” Isaac asked with a wrinkled brow, the pure expression of suspicion. Father Everard barked an entertained laugher.

“No, I doubt that is the fate God has in store for you. Perhaps I’m nothing but a small pawn placed strategically on your path to greatness.” The priest said in a chuckle. “As for now, I wish to repay you for your kindness and lend you a bed for a night.”

“Repay my kindness?” Isaac questioned perplexed. The way he saw things, he was the one in debt for receiving a free meal.

“You clearly do not believe my story about the Spirit of the Woods, and yet, not once have you said anything unkind or unpolite. For that, I am thankful.” The former mercenary spoke and stood up. “Please, follow me.”

Isaac needed a minute to process the priest’s words. This was the man’s second altruistic gesture. This was unprecedent. Like the odd collector in Tunes, when he gave him a present. Were these genuine acts of kindness or were these men behaving kindly as a result of madness? Because, they were both a little bit mad.

The walk was short and soon Father Everard was presenting the Sufi Forgemaster a small humble room with only a bed as furniture and a cross on the wall as decoration. The priest bid him a goodnight and just before he left, Isaac asked the one question that he had been wanting to ask already for a while.

“Why take food to the Spirit of the Woods? I doubt it needs to feed, like we do.” The Forgemaster watched the priest turn around to look at him and smiled warmly.

“You are right. I brought him books. Food for the mind.” Father Everard told and closed the door softly behind him. Isaac remained standing in the middle of the dark room for a moment before he chuckled at the man’s wittiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked up and it appears white animals were sometimes seen as magical creatures during the middle ages, like the white hind, being present in Celtic and Hungarian folklore and mythology.
> 
> The Battles mentioned are real. The Battle of Olmedo took place in 1445. Father Everard was 18 back then (so his mother died when he was 17; his father when he was 16). He was 26 when he deserted the Battle of Castillon (last battle of the 100 years wars). I imagine Father Everard is now 45 years old.
> 
> I truly enjoyed writting this long dialogue. I now its a chapter with no action, but I enjoyed inserting this break in Isaac's story. At least, I thought it was fitting.
> 
> Don't forget to leave your comment and have a very MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!


	21. Selvans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long delay. It took me forever to write this chapter. I think it was lack of inspiration and of interest. I really had to force myself to write it and, despite my reluctance towards this chapter, I think it came out pretty good. It is to you to judge.
> 
> Enjoy the reading!
> 
> BETA: CallieParis

Isaac woke up to the sound of silence. He breathed in the scent of cool stone and warm wool. He blinked his eyes, washing away the sleep, struggling to adjust to the sharp light. A long satisfying sigh. Whatever the cranky physician gave him, it did wonders. Some tiredness still lingered in his limbs, but he could sense his body was freed from fever. He felt fresh and strong for the first time in days.

Isaac got up and was surprised to find a clay basin with cold water, a towel and clean cotton bandages, next to his bed. He was a light sleeper, but he didn’t hear anybody entering his room. The African proceeded in cleaning himself and was pleased to find the swelling on his wound practically gone. He touched the skin next to the stitches. It still stung a bit, it was still sensible, but it was not glowing in heat anymore. A spontaneous little smile. The old physician may have behaved unfriendly and charged and expensive price, but it was worthy. The Forgemaster was confident he was strong enough to make his travel back to his conquered ghost city today still.

Isaac looked thoughtfully at the light entering through a small window, while he recalled Father Everard’s personal impressive story. Once a man filled with crude hatred, with a heart blackened by corruption. Yet, he found the light within himself. The kind priest made him wonder about humans’ nature. Perhaps people were not all evil. Perhaps people were made both of light and darkness. Perhaps it was their life circumstances or choices that made them act evil. Like Father Everard, who had been angry at the world for being outcasted by his own family and for his mother’s death. Like the philosopher, who despite being a good person, had betrayed his friends under torture. Despite their evil deeds, there resided good in them. Was this why all his life he balanced between the loathing for humankind and the hope people would show him kindness? Had he believed, all this time, people could be good, without even realizing it? Was this not the reason he kept doing the same thing and expecting a different result, to the point of questioning his own sanity?

“Perhaps I am not that different from you, Hector.” Isaac whispered to the light, as if it would carry his words across the countryside to the mountains in Styria. “Perhaps I am as foolish and optimistic as you are. The only difference is that you don’t hide it.”

The Sufi finished his morning hygiene. He looked at the basin with dirty water, the wet towel, and the bloodied bandages. It felt wrong to leave a mess behind for his kind host to later clean up, so he took the items with him. He left the room, in search for the priest. He easily found his way to the kitchen, where there was bread, water and some season fruit on the table, but no Father Everard. Knowing he would offend the priest in refusing the generous food, he sat down to eat. He left after cleaning up everything he had used. Isaac was not surprised to find Father Everard in the church, kneeled before the Christ image, eyes closed, lips uttering whispers of prayer. He tried to walk as quietly as he could, but the cool stone floor betrayed his presence.

“Feeling better, my friend Forgemaster?” The priest asked after making the sign of the cross and standing up to face him with a friendly smile.

“Yes. I feel quite restored.”

“Nothing like a good night rest to cure our qualms.” Father Everard told satisfied. “You slept through the morning. It’s just past noon.”

“It is?” The Forgemaster questioned surprised and the other man nodded. Isaac chuckled, unable to remember the last time he slept this much. “I wanted to thank you for your generosity.”

“It was my pleasure. It warms my heart to help others and I’m sure it makes God smile too.” The priest humbly told, and Isaac smiled involuntarily. “I suppose you will take your leave now?”

“Yes, the purpose for my travel here has been fulfilled.” Isaac told and his hand searched for a small leather bag hidden beneath his tunic. He took a handful of coins and walked in Father Everard’s direction.

“Please, it not necessary. My generosity comes freely.” The priest quickly dismissed. Even though he knew he should have expected this reaction, Father Everard’s refusal still surprised Isaac. The Forgemaster smiled fondly.

“I know. Yet, I feel like I should do something to show my appreciation.” The Forgemaster placed the coins on the other man’s palm and guided the man’s fingers to close his hand. “I know you will use this money to help whoever is in need.” Isaac told while he took two steps back. The priest opened his hand to reveal the offered coins.

“Yes, I can feed quite some hungry stomachs with this money. Thank you very much.” Father Everard agreed with a wide genuine smile, his eyes glinting from sincere happiness. “Have a safe journey. May God smile on you.” And with these words, the two men paid their farewell. Isaac placed his left hand over his heart and made a slight bow before walking away. The priest watched the Sufi Forgemaster walk through the door, the outside light drawing his silhouette until it disappeared from his sight. He looked down at the coins again, before closing his hand again. “Quite some hungry stomachs.”

…

Isaac almost regretted leaving the church. The sun was high and promised a warm afternoon, despite being early spring. He missed already the pleasant coolness of the sanctuary’s interior. The streets were packed with people going on with their daily chores, filled with loud voices of chatter and children’s laughter. He missed already the church’s contemplative silence. The African had little tolerance for crowds of humans and wished to leave Tortona as quickly as possible. Towns were too loud, too colorful and too busy for a man who enjoyed quietness and solitude. While he walked by, people gave him wary looks. Children stared at him curious, while mothers pushed them out of the way, fear imprinted in their eyes. He missed already God’s manifestation of love and tolerance through the voice of Father Everard. But the inhabitants of Tortona said and did nothing offensive. They let him be. At least, this time, he would leave a town without resentment.

Isaac reached the town’s main gate and turned around to look at the church one last time. He stared at the building in the distance. He thought the people of this humble Italian town were lucky to have Father Everard as their spiritual leader. He wished there were more people in the world like Father Everard. He turned around and walked through the gate. And smiled. Perhaps there were more people in the world like Father Everard.

…

The Sufi checked if nobody had followed him before he entered the forest. He emitted a soft whistle and soon, a demonic horselike creature with red glowing eyes appeared from behind the dense woods. Isaac smiled, reaching to pat his night creature’s muzzle. After the short greeting, the Forgemaster mounted it. He calculated to arrive in the ghost city only after nightfall. The sooner he left, the better. So, Isaac and his beastie started their ride back to the defeated magician’s city.

They followed the dirt path between the trees. It was evident this road was used regularly. It was broad and well-kept, details Isaac had missed the previous day. He looked around and took a moment to enjoy his surroundings. The tall trees provided a pleasant shade, while beams of warm sunlight penetrated between the branches, painting the leaves with lustrous yellows and greens. There was a soft gentle breeze, producing a pleasant peaceful rustle on the treetops. Birds chirped happily, chasing each other in the air, hopping between branches. It was when it struck him. This time, the woods were alive and not silent like yesterday. Isaac also didn’t sense anything out of the ordinary, no odd uncanny sensation when entering the woods. The forest held an idyllic beauty, making it look enchanted, but it was an ordinary forest, nevertheless.

“I must have been delirious yesterday.” Isaac whispered to himself. He gently touched his healing wound. It had stopped hurting and all he felt was a perfectly bearable soreness. Confident he was strong enough for a long journey, Isaac gave his horse-demon the order to ride fast.

His body was in the process of healing, but his heart was heavy, his mind filled with many interrogations. His conversation with Father Everard only intensified his doubts created by recent experiences. Like Miranda, the Captain, the Collector in Tunes; the priest somehow reached the depths of his soul and shook its foundations. Isaac was honestly tired of thinking and reconsidering his own convictions. He was tired of doubting and hesitating, of not knowing which goals or dreams he wanted to pursue. Did he want to destroy this old, corrupted world and build a new, pure one? Did he want to kill off all humans, killing along not only cruelty, but also kindness? Should he make Dracula’s destiny his own or should he become the protagonist of his personal story? Should he take revenge and then simply move on? The Forgemaster suffered with this inner struggle. He tried to shake away the unpleasant thoughts by concentrating on his senses. He focused on the feeling of cool wind touching his face. He closed his eyes and relished in the sensation. Then, all at the sudden, his horse-demon halted abruptly, forcing him to grip on tightly to prevent from falling.

Isaac opened his eyes with a gasp. The world had gone suddenly dark, painted in a range of monochrome dark blues. A white ethereal moonlight illuminated the path. How was it possible? How did it become night from one second to the other? It was then, when he saw it. A white fox. Standing in the middle of the road. The animal looked like it had been paralyzed while crossing the path and almost getting itself overrun by the demon. The Forgemaster, shocked and confused, thought he was dreaming. With a racing heart, he quickly dismounted, and, in that precise moment, the fox ran away, disappearing between the trees. Father Everard’s voice immediately invaded his mind, speaking about the Spirit of the Woods. Isaac rubbed his eyes while he groaned bewildered. His bafflement only increased when he reopened his eyes. It was day again. A clear warm mid-afternoon.

“What just happened?” The Sufi wondered out loud, his voice betraying his shock. His heart pumped frenetically under his chest. He felt completely disoriented. “Did I just dream? Was I hallucinating?” He stared at his beastie with large questioning eyes, but all he got from the night creature was a grunt. Isaac instantly regretted not taking the Philosopher with him. It would have been handy to have a speaking creature to confirm or deny what he just experienced. Still feeling shaky, the Forgemaster investigated his surroundings, but found nothing suspicious. “I must be going mad.”

Minutes later the beastie was trotting again in what now felt like an endless road. Isaac was growing nervous, because he truly didn’t understand what was going on. He replayed the events over and over in his mind, trying to make any sense of it. The more he thought about it, the more insane it appeared. The only plausible explanation was Father Everard’s story about the ancient Spirit. Could it be, what he thought was a fairy tale was real, after all? He looked around, his eyes searching. No sign of the fox. Isaac sighed deeply and annoyed.

“This goes beyond all comprehension.” He complained while he closed his eyes, his fingers rubbing his temple, then his eyebrows and finally his eyes.

When he reopened his eyes, he thought his heart would jump out of his chest. It was night again. The same dark blue shades painting a world only illuminated by the moon. He immediately looked at the path, but there was no fox. Then, he heard a rustling from his right. He quickly dismounted and took a few hesitant steps towards the edge of the road. A movement. Isaac paralyzed. A white hind was standing close by, staring intently at him. The Sufi felt his heart speed even faster and told himself to calm down, told himself he was not in danger. That he was not insane neither dreaming.

“Are you the Spirit of the Woods?” Isaac asked with a confident voice and the animal merely continued looking back at him, its eyes blinking once in a while. “What do you want from me?” At these words, the white hind hopped away, into the woods, making Isaac feel absolutely annoyed. He looked at his beastie and knew, there was no sense in trying to leave the forest. It was not up to him to decide, obviously. It was useless to try and go against this Spirit, or whatever it was. Also, according to Father Everard, this mystical creature was keen in helping others.

“What do I have to lose?” Isaac wondered out loud.

So, he took a deep breath and stepped into the woods decisively. Slowly, a warm soft golden light revealed the world to his eyes. The woods looked thicker and mysterious, the trees taller, older, holding great magnificent branches. Leaves travelled from high, dancing playfully in circles. The light, that beautiful divine golden light, made the forest an ethereal place. It was a marvelous sight. Isaac had never seen such a beautiful place in his life, and it warmed his heart.

The song of a bird.

The African followed the merry melody and found a white dove sitting on a tree branch. He smiled and sat down quietly. Listening. The dove sang a song of peacefulness without losing any of its joy. Isaac lay down and closed his eyes. It was a special song, dedicated to the Forgemaster and he listened to it enthralled. Soon, Isaac started forgetting. What led him there, in the first place. His stay in Tortona. The battle against the crazy magician. Recent and old memories slowly blurred. The dove’s song lasted a welcoming eternity and erased the pains that accompanied all the ill memories. Familiar faces and voices faded away into oblivion. Isaac listened and forgot. He wandered in an enchanted world of tall grass and pretty flowers, of ancient trees full of wisdom. The dove sang and Isaac felt he was floating weightless, relieved from all the old pains, all the hurts, all the disappointments, all the frustrations, all the anger, all the loathing. It all vanished along the memories. His heart was emptied, healed and refilled with the essence of good, of light and of love. The dove sang and Isaac laughed ecstatic. A sincere joyful giggle, a sound he hadn’t produced since a young child. Now, all his memories were erased. Isaac was no longer Isaac and yet, he had never been more himself. He had become his essence. He had become purity and harmony. He was connected with himself.

Isaac walked further and deeper into the woods. The dove was gone but the music continued. Time ceased to exist and all that remained was the moment of now. Isaac was free. He looked up and the sky was glowing red. Night had fallen, and a white path guided him, flowers opening in the dark and shining like little stars on the ground. The world was golden, the air a pleasant warm, a breeze of spring warming his heart. Trunks were bathed under a beautiful rosy light, leaves idly falling on the ground. He looked up and the sky was dark. He looked up and the sky was blue.

The sound of a running water.

He followed its crystalline music until he found a small stream. The white fox stood on the other side of the small river, waiting for him. Isaac kneeled on the grass. Nothing seemed strange as he embraced this world naturally. Thus, when the fox lowered its head, so his tongue could meet the water, Isaac didn’t question why he was suddenly thirsty. He simply followed his instinct, sunk his hand in the cold water and brought it to his lips. The coolness of the water refreshed more than just his body. It touched his soul, soothed his heart. Like waking up from a long deep sleep, from an endless pleasurable dream, Isaac’s memories slowly returned.

He remained unperturbed. He remained tranquil. For the first time in his life, Isaac could look back at his past without being overwhelmed by the bitter emotions that always accompanied them. He lifted his head, positively surprised. His eyes no longer met a fox, but a man. Golden wavy locks, that went just below the shoulders. Bright blue eyes, like the Mediterranean Sea in a summer afternoon. Perfect full lips that drew a playful gentle smile against a youthful skin. He wore a simple linen white shirt, contrasting beautifully against a slightly tanned skin. Dark brown pants but no shoes. The Forgemaster thought he was the most beautiful man he had ever laid eyes on.

“Thank you.” Isaac whispered, smiling widely, tears of blissfulness running down his cheeks. “Thank you.” He repeated, any other words failing him. He wanted to thank the Spirit for melting the fire of anger in his heart. For enabling him to look inwards without being blinded by fury and revolt, without being tormented by hurt. For feeling this relieved, weightless, happy.

“You are welcome, Isaac.” The young man spoke in a warm soft voice. “Come, walk with me.” He stretched his hand and offered it to aid Isaac crossing over the stream. The Forgemaster didn’t hesitate, being completely enthralled by this mysterious young man.

“I feel like I have been sleeping and dreaming forever.” Isaac told while they wandered through the woods.

“Sleep heals and dreams arrange thoughts.” The man spoke in a matter of fact and Isaac nodded. His eyes lingered longer than they should on the man’s blond locks. The way the light fell on them, made his hair glow like the sun. Isaac felt a strange fluttery sensation in his belly.

“What is your name?” Isaac asked, a rare curiosity making him want to know more about this man.

“I go by many names, but the ancient people from here called me Selvans.” He guided Isaac to a clearing full of green grass and white daisies, and they sat down. “I’ve lived here long before the first people came to this land. Men and women come and go. Their clothes, their tongues, their insignias change; but the worries in their hearts are always the same. Sadness, anger, fear. They overshadow the hearts to the point of making them so dark, they can no longer see through it. And lose themselves, like you did, Isaac.” He paused and smiled at the way the African stared back at him with large eyes, full of wonder. “You are too used to a life of solitude and isolation. Understandable, after what happened to you. It’s a protection. You prevent others from hurting you. The downside is, it goes against the human nature. People need each other. You need others.”

“I have survived very well on my own during all these years. Besides, isolation gave me more than protection. It gave me the needed time and space to learn and master many things, like the dark arts of necromancy.” Isaac counterargued, without hiding the pride in his voice.

“True. But like you said, you survived. You did not live life. Not to its full extend. And - there are things you cannot learn from books. Things you can only learn by coexisting with other humans.”

“Humans always end up hurting me. I’ve been beaten, insulted, expelled, outcasted, imprisoned…” Isaac sighed tiredly. “The only time I truly cooperated with a human, I barely tolerated him, and he ended up betraying Master Dracula and I.”

“Yet, he wanted to befriend you.” The Spirit of the Woods pointily told, and Isaac realized this man knew everything about him. All his memories, all his thoughts. He was like an omnipresent god in his mind. Somehow, it did not bother him. Somehow, Isaac knew, he could trust Selvans.

“For his own benefits.”

“Perhaps. But perhaps, he did wish you two got along better. After all, being alone is, well, lonely.” Selvans said in an amused chuckled and Isaac snickered along.

“It’s funny. I never thought of Hector as lonely. I mean, I know he lived alone in his island, but he had his undead pets.” Isaac told thoughtfully. “He blended better than I did in Dracula’s War Council. Honestly, I sometimes thought he was too talkative.”

“I imagine he went through similar difficulties as you did, since he too is a Forgemaster. He may be more social than you, doesn’t mean he is less lonely. The thing is, Isaac, you never got to know him properly. You only scratched the surface.”

“I doubt there was much more to scratch beneath that childlike surface.” The African said in a chuckle.

“You might be surprised. The surface can be deceiving.” Selvans told with a glint in his eyes. “You know, what always fascinated me about humans, is their inherent ability in adapting their behavior to situations and others. It’s like people wear different masks all the time to play different roles within their community. To really get to know someone, you need time, energy and regular contact.” He paused to grin knowingly. “Not something you practice, Isaac. You push people away. And insist in not having friends.”

“I was friends with Dracula.”

“Because he saved you. And for that, he won your boundless gratitude. But, would you have devoted the same loyalty if you two had met under other circumstances? For instance, in a casual meeting.”

“Dracula was a great man. I would have respected and admired him for his knowledge.” Isaac stubbornly said, while part of him questioned if he truly would have.

“So, you would open an exception for the Lord of Vampires. Is it because he was old and wise? Or is it because he travelled the world and saw things most people never do? Is it because he was the keeper of a lost ancient science? Is it because he abandoned his violent ways to learn about humans?” Selvans questioned casually. “Why not open an exception to an experienced fellow Forgemaster, or a Captain who travelled the Seven Seas, or a Collector that’s seen Hell, or a former mercenary who’s now a priest? Aren’t they worthy of your friendship? Weren’t they kind and even helpful to you? Or do you only become friends with those who save you?”

A moment of silence. Selvans grinned. Not a mocking or an arrogant smile, but an agreeably understanding one. Isaac remained quiet for some moments, the Spirit’s words sinking in. Part of him was upset, his pride somehow disturbed. He wanted to refute the man’s statement. But, Selvan’s had a point. Did he only consider Dracula his friend because he saved his life? Was that the real source for his undying loyalty?

“I get your point. I may not give people an opportunity. But that is because I prefer to be alone. Every time I go in a town, I expect people to be kind, tolerant, _friendly._ ” Isaac admitted. “But they are always rude and hostile. Every time I make the same mistake, because I keep expecting a different result. And it makes me tired. It makes me not want to be with people.” He explained, recalling the episodes in Tunes and Genoa. To his surprise, Selvans barked an amused easygoing laughter.

“Have you ever thought people would be nicer to you if you didn’t go into their towns with demons all the time? You cannot expect people to go unmoved when you show up with an army of sturdy lethal monsters?”

“I told them I meant no harm.” Isaac told stubbornly.

“Imagine this. You are alone at home, in your castle in the middle of the desert, and a horde of men carrying deadly weapons walk up to your front door. They tell you they come in peace. Would you believe them? Of course, you would not. You would think they wanted to conquer your castle.” Selvans told lighthearted, without holding any scorn in his voice. “I agree, you make the same mistake every time. But people behave exactly the way they should behave when they see you and your night creatures. They defend their city and their homes from danger. Because you present yourself as an enemy, as an invader. That is your real mistake, Isaac. You present yourself as a threat.” Selvans said in a clarifying tone. He leaned a bit back and chuckled before he continued his reasoning. “Also, you didn’t respect the guards’ warnings. They were doing their job, you know? Not to mention you killed before being attacked. You drew the first blood. Practically declared war.” Selvans went on, pointing mercilessly Isaac’s unreasonable behavior. “Lets’ be honest. You haven’t really done much to deserve kindness from others.”

“I – never had really looked things from that perspective.” The Forgemaster confessed, never viewing himself as a danger to others, but always the opposite.

“Well, humans tend to only see their own point of view.” Selvans said while in a matter-of-fact manner. “But you can learn to open your mind. If you place yourself in someone else’s shoes, you can understand why they behave in a certain way. Understanding leads to tolerance, cooperation, and peace.”

“You sound like Father Everard.” Isaac told with a smirk and Selvans lifted a gracious eyebrow before replying with a crocked grin.

“Come on, Forgemaster. Give me some credit. Who do you think taught Father Everard?” The Spirit of the Woods teased and both men laughed afterwards. Isaac couldn’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed, this happy in his life. Somehow, Selvan’s presence soothed him. He laid on his back, staring at the blue sky.

“Can I stay here with you a while longer?” The Forgemaster asked with his eyes closed, relishing the way the grass tickled his neck. He sensed Selvans lay right next to his.

“You may stay here as long as your heart wishes.” The Spirit of the Woods whispered, like a summer evening breeze. Isaac smiled, his heart warm and blissful. He sensed the other man’s hand lying next to his and, without thinking, moved to touch it, their fingers intertwining.

“Then, I shall stay.”

…

For the first time in his life, Isaac truly felt happy. This joy was found in the company of the Spirit of the Woods, Selvans, who despite being older than the forest itself, presented himself as a gracious young man. There was nothing Isaac didn’t adore about Selvans. The Spirit was tranquil and patient but held a youthful energy. He was cheerful and playful like a boy but was wise and sensible. Spirit and Forgemaster shared endless philosophical conversations. Selvans was a keeper of knowledge. The forest was his domain, but humans were his fascination. He was a grand teacher, passing on what he learned during centuries. Politics and religion, literature and music, medicine and agriculture, ethics and moral. They talked for hours and hours. Yet, it felt like short minutes.

Time didn’t exist. There was no routine. Isaac ate when he was hungry, slept when he was sleepy, independently of if it was day or night. Sometimes he wandered alone in the forest and ventured deeper and deeper in the woodland’s heart. He would find the most beautiful, enchanting places, but he could never retrace them a second time. Most times he spent time with Selvans. They talked and laughed, they held hands together. Fingertips explored their faces. Sometimes their lips would meet in an innocent and chaste greeting, the sweetest kind of kisses. Isaac was sure he loved Selvans. And the ancient Spirit loved him back, because Selvans loved everything that was good and kind.

Isaac willingly lost himself in this idyllic world of dreamy enchantment and renounced the world beyond the trees. His world. The world of Men. For the first time in his life, Isaac felt truly happy, because he loved and was loved back. Selvans had saved his heart from its darkness.

…

Mahogany eyes shot open. A gasp. An increase in the heart rate. Isaac lay on the grass on his back, where he had fallen asleep. He breathed in a familiar scent. It filled his nostrils warning him. He sat up and turned his head searching for Selvans. The Forgemaster stood up quickly. His heart race quickened to a dangerous speed. Something was off. Something was very wrong. The world was dark and silent. But he could hear the trees cry.

The scent of burning wood.

Selvans was gone.

Overcome by a wave of ominous foreboding, Isaac ran. He ran in the dark. He ran disoriented. He ran and ran. For what felt like ages. For what felt like miles. In an endless world of trees. Isaac ran and ran, knowing something bad was happening. His mind held one single thought. Selvans. He feared for his safety.

He tripped and fell with his face on the floor. The ground felt different. He got quickly up and saw, to his great surprise, the dirty path he had followed the previous day. Of was it three days ago? A week? He turned another time around, still disoriented, panic growing in his heart. Feeling fear for somebody else.

“Selvans!” He called and his voice seemed to barely travel in the air. “Selvans!!!” He called louder and froze for a moment. He heard a sound. Hooves hitting the ground. Two red lights in the darkness. His bestie had heard his calling and rushed to meet his Master. Isaac quickly mounted his demon horse, sensing there was no time to lose. “Ride, my beastie. Ride to Tortona.”

They followed the road illuminated by a full moon; the horse-demon galloping was fast as the wind. The scent of burned wood became more intense. The crying of the trees a howling. Then, a vision froze his heart. Far away, he could discern the yellow lights against a black background. Trees were on fire. Isaac commanded his demon to ride faster, and fast it rode. Until they were crossing burning trees. But they never stopped. The heat was horrible and unbearable. They never stopped. Sweat dripped down in torrents, as the temperatures became increasingly high, as hot as Hell. They never stopped and eventually, reached the end of the road and exited the woods. Isaac’s face became the expression of horror. His heart contracted from sorrow. His stomach twisted from revolt.

Tortona was under attack. Yellow flames painted the roofs of houses. People screamed and ran around desperate. Soldiers fought bravely but with no avail. They fell lifeless, covered in their blood and guts. One by one, the surviving citizens were gathered and shoved into large iron cages by men in silver and black armors. Tears swell in Isaac’s eyes when he recognized the monsters. They were everywhere. Flying in the sky, jumping on the burning rooftops, running on the ground, killing humans, chasing humans, carrying humans. Large impressive muscular night creatures with blue glowing eyes. Hector’s night creatures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! The final chapter of Isaac's POV! We will be in Styria again, next chapter, with our beloved Hector and Lenore.  
> Also, next chapter will fill in the events between Tortona's downfall, Selvans' fate and Isaac's attack in Styria.
> 
> I had to laught when I read AsgorathAlpha's comment, because, as much as I thought Isaac's arc in S03 was really compeling, I do find him too find him boring. More as a person, than as a character. I think that is why I struggled so much with this chapter. But, I wanted to round up his "spiritual" journey, without it being rushed, but also didn't want to drag it too long (am bit bit afraid might have done the latter) 
> 
> Also, I tried to create an aura of mystery around the forest and the character of Selvans, which was not very easy. I wanted to give the impression Isaac found himself in a dreamlike state, a bit like in «Alice in Wonderland», where the illogical feels normal and logical.
> 
> By the way, Selvans was the god of the woodlands in the Etruscan mythology (ancient civilization in Italy, pre-Roman empire). 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts!

**Author's Note:**

> Please, do let me know what you think about this beginning. Also, I wonder how you think the plot will develop. Leave your thoughts in the comments. Cheers and until the next chapter.


End file.
